Covert Ops
by Mach56
Summary: Far after the fall of Atollon Base, the Rebellion continues to grow in spite of the Empire's growing threat and control, with multiple rebel groups beginning to coalesce and coordinate against the Empire's activities. In this tumultuous period, Sabine Wren and Ezra Bridger are sent on a mission to the Mid-Rim world of Shu-Torun to infiltrate an Imperial Conference...
1. From Prologue to Planetside

.

Chapter 1

From Prologue to Planetside

* * *

The singer's cries echoed through the hull of the _Ghost_ , full of trills and operatic flair. Accompanied by an eclectic mix of jingles and strums, the traditional music of Lothal was a very lively tune, made for dance and revelry.

Chopper hated it (his audio inputs mysteriously jammed around this hour). Zeb loathed it (rushing off to perform maintenance on the _Phantom II_ ). Kanan mediated through it (his true opinion of the genre unknown). Hera soldiered through it (the _Ghost_ never flew straighter). Commander Rex wasn't even hearing it, covering for Zeb as Chief security officer at the base, along with Fenn Rau. The lucky ones.

Sabine just _seethed_. Ezra sung along to the music.

The padawan stood in the mess room, happily swaying to the discordant noise as he cleaned up the room - fastening the grill to the air ducts, tinkering with the Dejarik board's circuits, cleaning up what-ever dust or debris that might have existed after their latest planetside mission. Lothalian music was dancing music, and the crew had caught on to Ezra's spontaneity - nobody was in range for him to try and drag into a sudden dance or serenade to. He worked alone - worked hard, and worked smart: at times using The Force to aid him in his chores.

Then in the cockpit, a readout next to Hera chirped, and after a glance she put her hand on the intercom.

* * *

"News everyone - grab a seat at the rec room!"

* * *

Naturally, Ezra didn't hear it - too caught up with humming along to the beat. It took three people - (Zeb, Chopper and Hera) for him to realize something was up. That and Sabine turning off the radio in a huff.

"Hey now!" Ezra complained, in too much of a good mood to notice or really care about Sabine's exasperation.

"I was doing everyone a favor." Was the sharp response.

Ezra just shrugged with a small smile, acclimated to Sabine's expressive nature. An artist to the core, when it came to art Sabine was either incredibly enthusiastic… or incredibly heated. He let the Mandalorian cool off as he plopped down across from Captain Orrellios, who was admiring the polished desk.

"Heheh… Fixed the board, I see." Zeb stated happily as the Dejarik holograms appeared when he activated the device, flickering ever so slightly - but in harmony.

"You're welcome." Ezra responded smugly. "Do try to lose to Chopper less, ok? The metal is starting to dent."

"No promises. Someone's gotta help me with the Phantom." Zeb muttered, glaring at Chopper in a way that all but confirmed another match.

"How many hours of maintenance did you bet on those games?" Ezra asked, suddenly curious and slightly concerned.

Chopper wobbled and chuckled as Zeb responded with a strained growl.

" _Too many_."

The door to the residence hall slid open with a hiss - Kanan had arrived. Bearded and still sporting the Sabine-updated jedi visor, the Jedi calmly took authority.

"What's up, Hera?"

"HQ wants to chat. Looks like another mission."

The words gave the crew resolve. Missions meant justice - it meant action. Ezra leaned in whilst Zeb's ears fluttered slightly. Sabine, leaning on the wall, tried to hide an eager change in demeanor. Chopper even retracted one of his two "arms" for a more refined and dignified droid.

"Well, patch them through."

"Chopper?" Hera asked, and the droid wobbled and murmured, opening its antenna to connect with the ship's communication array. Soon enough, the blue lines of a hologram took shape, shot out from Chopper's holoprojector.

"Commander Sato." Hera greeted the sharpening image with her usual politeness.

"Captain Syndulla, Ghost Team." The commander announced formally as his form came into focus. "It's been scarcely 20 hours since our last communication, so I'm sure you understand that the matter at hand is incredibly fluid."

Commander Sato let the statement die, but there wasn't much reason to. Quick on his tongue, Kanan filled the void.

"But it's significant enough for the call - right?"

"Just so: Have you ever heard of the planet Shu-Torun?"

The crew of _The Ghost_ looked at Kanan, the wise veteran of the clone wars - but he had nothing to say. Knowledge from Rex or Rau was sorely needed, veterans with much more on-hand experience with the planets of the galaxy.

"It definitely rings a bell, some mining planet... but… that's nowhere near here." Kanan admitted. "I'm out of my league."

"Well, to be brief, Shu-Torun is a Mid-Rim world - a planet rich with metal deposits and other resources, making it a valuable factory of imperial ships. Our rebel cells and Fulcrum agents near the system have indicated that there will be a meeting between the Imperial High Command on the planet - as well as rebellious stirrings within the Shu-Torun people."

"...This is all pretty general so far." Kanan replied, a tone both unimpressed and unnerved at the same time.

Commander Sato nodded. "Our thoughts exactly - Shu-Torun as a Mid-Rim planet is simply too close to the Empire for standard procedure - and our understanding of any rebel sentiments are vague at best. Yet two Fulcrum agents and a number of lesser informants have pointed to Shu-Torun as the location of an Imperial conference during the Pyytt Festival, two days from now. A reconnaissance mission during the festivities could deliver a better picture of both the Imperial's intentions and any information of Mid-Rim rebel cells. The Festival often encourages disguises and multiple masquerade balls - with an Imperial Academy in the capital city, it seems like the perfect mission for your two youngest members."

Hera looked at the two members in question.

"You two up for the task?"

Sabine shared a quizzical look with Ezra.

"Infiltrating a ball, an imperial academy and an imperial conference... in one night? Don't you think security will be... a bit rough?" Ezra announced, wary with experience.

"Very." Commander Sato affirmed. "Since Shu-Torun has seemingly no record of rebellion activity, security protocols may not be so tight, especially thanks to the festival. That doesn't change the fact that as a crucial Imperial factory, the Imperial presence is massive - heavier than you've ever seen."

Considering the fact that Ezra had infiltrated factories and Star Destroyers, the sharpness in Commander Sato's statement gave him a good understanding of how delicate this operation was.

"Well… we can't fly in on the _Ghost_ or the _Phantom_ \- the Empire would identify us in a second. How are we even getting planet-side?" Sabine thought out loud.

"I've organized a veteran smuggler to deliver you into the capital and extract you back out to deep space." Sato answered, stepping away and letting the hologram fade into a neutral, static blue screen.

"2 hours on Hondo." Zeb muttered to the astromech droid. Chopper whirred as he agreed to the bet.

"It's not going to be Hondo, is it?" Sabine echoed in a rather horrified manner. After the events of Wynkahthu, Sabine and most of the crew were absolutely fed up with smugglers and pirates. Particularly Hondo… _Especially_ Azmorrigan.

"Well, what could be worse?" Ezra offered happily.

"What's this about Ohnaka? More of a pirate than a smuggler, don't you think?" A loud and charming voice answered from light-years away. The scoundrel had been listening in off screen, speaking those words just as he stepped into the picture. Masterfully trimmed mustache and suave, billowing cape, the savant gave a casual salute to the members of Ghost Squad.

"...It's worse." Ezra concluded, deflating in spirit as the rest of the team brightened somewhat, save Zeb.

"I look forward working with you a second time, Phoenix Squadron!" Lando announced. "Let's have a smooth little sortie."

* * *

Star Wars Rebels

* * *

A day later and 24 hours before the festival, Ezra was still unconvinced. As he walked, Sabine worked, fabricating their disguises and inserting her own artistic visions to the metal and fabric.

"He's no different from Hondo."

"You can say that."

"He sold Hera!" Ezra continued as he walked into the hall, the hydraulic doors sliding shut behind him.

"As a ruse."

"Did we know that?" Ezra shot back as the hydraulic doors let him back in, as he continued to pace in and out of the Rec Room.

"Alright, point taken. He did say he was in Hera's debt."

"And then he discovered a missing a whole canister of starfighter-grade fuel." Ezra concluded, placing a hand on the table and resting his upper body on it.

Sabine sighed, looking up from her craft.

"We have to get to Shu-Torun somehow, Ezra. All things considered, Lando has been the best smuggler we've worked with - he _did_ get us off of Lothal."

"He gave us used junk - Which _you_ made into signal beacons. I'm not declining the mission, I just think there could be some other way…"

"There isn't."

"Ahhhhrgh! Why couldn't someone else do this?"

Sabine shrugged as Ezra continued to pace in the common room, counting down the seconds before the Ghost arrived at the rendezvous location.

"You did the research. The Imperial Academy is clearly a venue for the ball. Right above that that is the main Imperial Land and the regional Headquarters. Disguised as ball-goers, we'll make our way into the Imperial Sector, up to the Academy and through the dance, up to the landing pad..."

"...Because we're young enough to pull it off. " Ezra concluded sullenly, "Especially since Shu-Torun's Pyytt festival encourages kids and young adults to wear these masks."

"Durasteel masks. They're _big_ on Durasteel." Sabine corrected, checking her art in contemplation. "And we're just barely going to get there, thanks to Lando. It was either us or nobody."

"Alright, alright. I got it..." The padawan conceded in a defeated matter, sitting down and watching Sabine weld away.

"A job's a job." Zeb admitted as he entered the room, walking past the two to get up to the Phantom. "Just... stay away from Sabacc cards."

With that remark, the intercom flared to life.

"Lando's here!"

* * *

In the void of space, a YT-1000 freighter de-accelerated out of hyperspace - it's engine ports still bright blue with power. Pulling alongside the Ghost, docking was quick and relatively uneventful.

Relatively, considering Ezra's pouting.

* * *

"Ezra! Sabine! It's such a pleasure to have the two of you on board!" The smuggler began as both rebels walked around him and surveyed the inner layout of the ship. Blaster marks dotted the walls, and empty crates stood stacked to one wall.

"Messy ship - I know." Lando exclaimed before anyone could make a statement, and expertly glossing over Sabine and Ezra's silent treatment. "But there's potential in this Corellian design - Looking forward to a future model."

"I expect them back in one piece and breathing, Lando." Hera spoke smoothly, sizing him up momentarily.

"Relax Hera," Lando laughed. "Your friend Sato's no fool: I only get my end of the bargain (save the collateral of course) when I bring your two cadets backs safe and sound!"

Hera nodded suspiciously as the rest of the team said their goodbyes. Kanan spoke words of wisdom to both Ezra and Sabine, Chopper rammed Ezra's leg in typical C1-10P fashion, Zeb shared a friendly fist bump.

Hera took a moment on her own to wish the two away.

"You two take care, alright?"

"Relax." Ezra assured the Twi'Lek. "We'll keep Lando in sight."

Hera sighed.

"Lando is just the first obstacle... This is big league stuff, you two. You know how much the rebellion is growing, and how the stakes are constantly rising... in order for us to withstand the likes of Thrawn - we need this knowledge in order to prepare our next move, to know what we're up against."

The mention of the ruthless general quieted Ezra's smile and good humor, bringing back memories of the near-disastrous assault on their rebel group, and the end to their rebel base on Atollon.

"We'll get it done."

And with that, Hera and their comrades disappeared. The airlock doors whirred as the air was cycled out and replaced with vacuum - the Ghost's landing hooks disconnected and the ship slowly drifted, then pulled away completely aft of Lando's freighter.

The mission had begun.

* * *

 _The big league._ The thought was a seed - something that would bloom in the months to come, but it's mere presence in Ezra's mind unnerved him. The Padawan and Mandalorian stood behind Lando as he checked the hyperspace readings in the cockpit, zooming through the ethereal slipstream. As much as Ezra disliked Lando, he had to admit the gambler was very wise and experienced in all sorts of planets and customs, as well as an easy talker. They quizzed him to learn a bit more about the volcanic system, and what they would expect.

"So, Lando - ever been to this place? Any good deals you've made at Shu-Torun?"

"Sure! Most smugglers call this place "Mild-Mannered Mustafar". The Shu-Torun government is a monarchy - with one King or Queen and a whole army of dukes and duchesses who pay them tribute. Very… traditional in the upper levels of government - curtsies and bows and all of that cotillion."

"We know _that_." Sabine interjected in her typical impatient manner. "What about _your_ experiences?"

"Well, with it's rich and pompous nobility, you can infer that Shu-Torun always has _at least_ one prospective buyer. Lots of smugglers drop down for a barter - some exotic plant in exchange for some high-grade durasteel… among other things. A pretty healthy shipyard atmosphere - "

"For a smuggler." Ezra clarified.

"For an _entrepreneur_." Lando answered back. "Bit dicey when it comes to the populace - Welders and Bolters everywhere, tagging whatever they please…"

"Street art?" Sabine asked optimistically.

"You could say. Big on metal, these folks are. Any wall that has exposed steel is either welded or bolted into some design by street gangs. I feel they're a bit too romantic for my tastes… but you may get some inspiration from them. If you have a fusion cutter you could always just offer to add to their wall, and they'd be happy to oblige. They're ruthless, violent and intimidating, but if you can pull off some art they'll treat you nice."

Sabine brightened a bit with the news, eager to test something other than her combat skills.

* * *

Pulling out of hyperspace, the Corellian craft began to heavily break its velocity as it began to pass under the massive ships awaiting them high above Shu-Torun's orbit. Nine star destroyers with one imperial cruiser escorting each craft, save for the command ship, which proudly presented a Interdictor cruiser off of each wing. The incessant roar of tie-fighter engines suddenly shuddered through the craft as escorts gathered on each side of the YT-1000. Ezra could spy at least three tie defenders making the rounds on the perimeter of one of the rightmost destroyer.

"Karabast." Sabine grumbled, surveying the assembled ships. "It seems whoever gave us that information wasn't joking. Is this a conference or an all-out blockade?"

"YT-1000 frigate 'Hawk' - state your business." The radio squawked. Lando smiled and picked up the input mike.

"Simple merchandising, of course! Me and my two colleagues: Reference code A-2391."

A momentary pause as the Imperial checked his logbook.

"Standby for scan."

As the Hawk flew closer to the planet, more subtle differences between the Star Destroyers became noticeable - most especially that dark grey collage painted on the underside of one of the wing craft - the tentacles of the Chimaera. Sabine shared a look with Ezra, who gave her a nervous grin and a typical Ezra remark.

"Well… at least Lando isn't going to sell us?"

* * *

It was so much better once Sabine stepped off the craft and onto solid ground, not to see those behemoths drifting above them, turbolasers and turrets pointing precariously towards their insignificant starship. Still, it wasn't much of an improvement: nothing on the molten planet nothing seemed solid: The capital was comprised of roughly forty enormous artificial steel masts on a mound of rock adrift in a sea of lava. While that 'rock' was a continent-wide boulder - it spoke to the inhospitality of the natural terrain. Out of the mast radiated a number of circular platforms, miles wide and each of them supporting a city. Structures as much as 50 meters high dwarfing neighboring houses, residential blocks and skyscrapers and industrial centers all clinging and next to each other.

"Well... now I really get why welding and bolting is a past-time to these people." Sabine stated, surveying the grey collage that sat in front of them. "Everything here is metal."

"There is some greenery near the palace - before that you'll find the Imperial Academy" Lando answered, pointing up and over to the largest and most central of the steel pillars. "Those areas will be restricted and patrolled, though."

"Thanks, Lando." Sabine responded, before breathing to herself: "...for the obvious."

"Just get down here by 0100, alright? After that - no exit out of the planet, and the ship reference codes are checked for each ship."

There was a momentary pause.

"Your code will still work, right?" Ezra clarified.

Another one, this time with Lando shrugging… and Ezra groaned in realization.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me."

"Hey, I know you two can do a lot in five hours…" Lando replied as the metal doors closed and he walked off to the customs booth. "... so just do it quick!"

* * *

"This place is like Coruscant, right?" Ezra asked as they had made their way into one of the many alleyways on the lower disk. Sabine was always on about Coruscant's music, fashion, art - even if the Empire had put a dent on artistic freedom, she was hopelessly in love with the capital planet.

"Not even close." Sabine huffed, putting on her mask. "The City Planet wasn't built on lava, you don't breath furnace air… and you can't see a horizon from Coruscant's streets - it's an endless maze."

"You say that like it's a good thing." Ezra chuckled as he put his own disguise on.

"There's always something new on the next block in Coruscant, always a reason to keep walking." Sabine explained, her voice suddenly full of longing. "If you want to see the horizon, just jump on an air-taxi or hover-car and take the high road. That's something I want to do someday. Best view in the galaxy."

Ezra nodded, trying to picture rising up from a maze of a city just for the chance to gaze down upon it and out until the curve of the Capital planet, with its luminous chrome skyscrapers in all their glory.

"That'd be a sight, I guess, but the best? Lothal has some pretty good landscapes."

Sabine shrugged. "See it for yourself. Someday the _Ghost_ is going to dock on Coruscant, and we'll all see that _I_ was _right_."

"I'll hold you to that promise, Spectre 5." Ezra smirked as he tightened his mask. They were both wearing casual grey gear, although Sabine had incorporated some of her armor into the getup, including her jetpack and vambraces. Sabine had done good work on both of their guises - phantom masks with personalized markings - large enough to cover most of their recognizable features. Ezra's was a callback to Kanan's visor, with a Loth-cat's eyes to give the mask a wide-eyed gaze, and Sabine's was Mandalorian through and through, with the sharp lines to proudly broadcast her heritage. Although the steel masks were typically plain grey and black, there were subtle streaks of warm color on hers - the ever-present artist. While her mask was smaller and more stylized, Sabine had colored her hair for the occasion, black at the roots with streaks of sun yellow and magma orange to help sell her disguise. The only thing that was recognizable was her smile, voice and biting wit.

"Is that some new style you're working on?"

"Yeah - just some contrast experimentation - using the shadows and ridges of the mask to accentuate the color, along with the hair."

"None on mine, though." Was Ezra's obvious follow-up.

"Can't rush art, Ezra. There was only so much time and all you told me was to 'make it look like Kanan's visor!' " Sabine grumbled back, along with a dullard's mocking impression of Ezra's voice. "...Not much to work with."

Ezra tapped into The Force as he leapt from the alleyway, all the way up to the roof of the adjacent building. He put his hand to his left ear to test their comm-set, surveying the rooftops and surrounding city around him as he spoke.

"No, no, it's ok. Let's get to business…"

Then the young Jedi raised his eyes and looked _up_ to the metropolis that wafted above him.

"...How are we going to get up three miles and over four pillars?"

"Simple." Sabine's voice emanated up from his earpiece, before she appeared by his side. How she was able to vaulted up the steep walls of the building so quickly, Ezra would never know. "We take an elevator."

…

"You honestly think we can just do that? All the way to the top?"

"Maybe."

"I have my doubts."

"We'll cross that bridge when we reach it." Sabine chuckled as she started off towards the platform center.

* * *

The first elevator ride was a crowded one - fifty cubic feet all filled with masked civilians, all milling about and eager to partake in festivities. It gave Ezra an understanding of the typical Shu-Torun citizen: armored and bulky, like Mandalorians on adrenals but without any of their grace or precision. Even normal citizens had at least some sort of armor on them, metal tips to their sleeves or chest, making Sabine's leftover armor less noticeable. The guards that stood by the entrance utilized hip mounted guns that were connected to large energy reserves strapped to their back.

"Let's not get into a scuffle with the city guard." He muttered into his mouthpiece. "Not sure if I could deflect whatever those nozzles will spit out."

"Fine by me." Sabine muttered, more focused on the walls of the elevator. As they rose up through the metal shaft, art of the Welder and Bolter gangs panned downward, stubborn graffiti that sometimes broadcasted catchphrases or showed funny art. Some of them made a mockery of the Empire's sigil, a comforting and encouraging sign. Sabine took her time soaking it in, turning to and fro to appreciate the vision of the capitals' vandals.

They rode the elevator as high as it would go - but when they walked out into the new city level, there were clearly more miles to climb. Three, to be precise.

"So there is some restriction to each level, otherwise elevators would be all-access." Sabine deduced as they walked past pods and moving speeders as they made their way around the iron pillar, looking for another elevator to ride upwards.

"So we'll be breaking the law long before we start spying in on the Empire." Ezra warned.

"According to my _highly_ outdated city map," Sabine continued. "There should be another lift around the corner that can take us up a couple more levels."

As they weaved through the crowd, Ezra spied the elevator in question up ahead - with a long line of partygoers waiting for the ride.

"Great. If the crowds are as heavy as they are up on the upper levels, we shouldn't have any problem with security."

"Yeah, but how long is that wait? Are all the elevators going to be like this? Time's an issue."

Ezra nodded, his eyes settling on something distant, far past the throngs of people and the buzzing hovercraft. Something at the edge.

"I think all of the civilian lifts are going to be clogged - but I think I know where we can get an turbolift without any crowds."

"Shoot."

* * *

Security Chief Rebarra yawned as he checked the gauge of his Turbo-rifle for the fortieth time this evening. It had slowly decayed to 98% charge, he already vented it twice in the past five hours. As much as he'd like to be celebrating with the rest of his planet, the Imperials had another thing in mind: The entire Imperial block was to be shut down, with the exception of the ball-goers - who could only enter from the metropolitan level.

 _Exceptions._ The most dangerous flaws in any security protocols. Stretch a rule just a little bit and before you know it Welders would be swarming the dance floor.

That's why he was here, to somehow make the already insecure situation a bit more secure. About as smart or fun as being charged with making a sinking ship sink slower. It didn't help the fact that Imperial troops looked down on the capital's security force as if they were standing in bridges of their precious Star Destroyers orbiting the planet. The Toruns would keep order at the dance and check all of the entry points, do all of the heavy lifting, while the Stormtroopers would chew Luna-Weed and kriff around forty floors up.

Classic Empire protocol.

The bridges to the Imperial sector were large and small - some able to withstand the weight of an AT-ST, others simple maintenance bridges. The Imperials loved to nest in the most crucial sector of the city, and choosing the main power generator tower as their home gave them a symbolic and physical grasp of control over the city, but also a rather tremulous ability to repel trespassers. Especially since many were looking for a shortcut or empty turbolift to the party - more than seventy bridges to guard. Seventy weak-points!

Speaking of trespassers… Two new irritations had melted out from the crowd - which was strange. Just two? Most gangs who tried to get access to the Imperial levels were gangs of Welders and Bolters, artists looking to make the first big score to rub it in the faces of their rivals. Those stupid kids who lived in the dilapidated husks of crude iron ore in the poor sections of the city always tried to stick it to "The Chromies"... yet these two didn't carry arc welders, nor did they have bolt guns strapped to their sides. The male in front waved enthusiastically, making no attempt to catch the guard unawares, and ignorant of Rebarra's experience - the guard knew this was a distraction. A distraction is best addressed by crushing the deception outright: He would waste no words wasted on duplicitous conversations.

"Skrog off! This is a restricted zone!"

"Easy, sir. I was just wondering where the dance… was." The trespasser began, before backing away once he realized the turbo-rifle was pointed at his gut.

"You have 5 seconds to comply!"

"Woah!" The luckless and floundering citizen said as he panicked, waving his hands as he backed off, "You don't have to shoot me!"

Rebarra smiled at the quick retreat - this runt's cowardice was surprising - most rust-dwellers would at least throw a couple of expletives and dare him to take a shot. Maybe the fact that the odds were two to one turbo-laser changed things, maybe this kid was an amateur. Whatever the case, the strangeness of this situation cracked a smile in the weathered law-keeper.

"Keep backing off, and I don't have to shoot you... Now skrog off!"

The man cast a sidelong glance to his companion, then looked back as he continued to retreat step by step, holding out his hands in a diplomatic fashion.

"You… You're going to holster that weapon."

 _How would_ _you_ _like to guard a bridge for a whole night?_ Rebarra grumbled to thin air. There was no end to this disrespect: others always trying to tell him how to conduct himself, when they had no experience of enforcing peace themselves. It was true that these two weren't that much of a threat - but they could have been. How was he supposed to differentiate between law-abiders and criminals? The boy's nervous plea to put away the weapon was redundant and missing the point - he had to draw on them, to take preemptive measures, or else he was at risk for being rushed. Never mind that now, they were shouting from about 30 feet away - the situation had been successfully de-escalated, the bridge was secure.

He holstered his weapon.

"You know, we're supposed to be at that dance: Lots of business we have to discuss... You'll tell us where it's at."

The guard groaned, finally understanding the stupid situation- two stupid offworlders who slapped on some masks to appeal to some cultured ore-duke or ore-duchess at the ball. No wonder they were so gutless, or so utterly stupid enough to get so lost, or to forgo dresses and suites - though with the festival they may be able to pull it off. Really, though: who is stupid enough to miss an entire floor? The entrance to the venue just one city level above them, one hundred and fifty meters over their heads. Could these two business executives count, let alone read a map?

He told them where it was at.

"You'll let us pass, and forget about all of this nonsense."

"I'll let you pass, and forget about all of this nonsense."

* * *

Ezra grinned, Sabine frowned.

"Gotta trust me, Spectre 5."

"At gunpoint?" Sabine deadpanned. "Never."

Ezra shrugged as they continued over the bridge, its natural curve obscuring the clueless watchman from their sight, and vice versa.

"He was a tough guy - I warned you that he wouldn't be so simple. With a headstrong person you have to slowly, _gently_ weasel it in."

"He didn't seem like a much of a challenge."

"That's because you didn't sense his tenacity. I could _feel_ that guy was as stubborn and thickheaded as a Mandalorian."

"Ooooh," Sabine exclaimed. "What else did you feel, Spectre 6? Did you feel his rugged chin? His chiseled abs? His dreamy eyes-"

"-I felt your attraction to them, yeah." Ezra fired back.

"You're crinkin' right." Sabine smirked. "That hunk is so much more reliable than mysterious spooky force powers."

" _You will sabotage power line_." Ezra interrupted with a goofy smile and a mysterious voice, dramatically waving his hands in front of Sabine's face.

"..."

" _Please_?"

Sabine rolled her eyes, accepting Ezra's olive branch and laying off the arms race. For now.

"Alright, alright."

Ezra grinned even wider, even goofier, egging Sabine on.

"Oh sorry, my _mistake_ , mystical force guy." Sabine replied sarcastically, before badly faking a disoriented, Mind-Tricked response, " 'I will sabotage the power line.' "

The beeping of Sabine's tool of sabotage was loud when held between the two Spectre agents, but once placed on the underbelly of the bridge, it was an inaudible blip. Remotely activated, the device would cause a controlled explosion that would spell a short-circuit: The entire electrical grid supported by this bridge would become unstable - a very large distraction that could easily passed off as an unlucky event. Textbook espionage. Not that Ezra read textbooks: Sabine did the explaining well enough.

"This'll provide good cover, but if we can I'd like to plant a few more on some other bridges, to guarantee we get some _solid_ blackouts."

Ezra smiled at Sabine's enthusiasm for chaos and disruption.

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

End Chapter


	2. Deception Central

.

Chapter 2

Deception Central

* * *

"This is a horrible plan."

Ezra rolled his eyes as they began to melt into the crooning swarm of dancers and partygoers. The hijacking of a turbolift was nothing eventful, just crawling across the catwalk until they found a service door into the power plant, slipping through the corridors and pressing a button. But the moment they snuck out at the Academy level, past the guard and into the terrance, Spectre 5 suddenly became very opinionated about the entire operation.

The ball was quite massive, just like the venue: A square about two hundred meters in circumference was polluted with revelry, while further out towards the circle and the edge of the platform was sparse and sprinkled with standing tables. One bridge fed into the Imperial Academy's grounds, and it was choked full of hopefuls: Not many were getting through.

"You're just being a stiff, Sab. Nothing's..."

"Sab?" The venom in Sabine's voice was palpable, and Ezra quickly tried to defuse the error by distracting her with a smaller annoyance.

"Oh, sorry, _Mand'alor_. It's a dance. Big deal!"

Calling her by her title got her to huff and continue walking. Ezra smiled to himself, proud for being able to quiet the eruption before it began. The Spectre agent was always a tough and temperamental individual, but even after all of the nonsense in the past two years they had learned quite a bit about each other: In this case, sometimes the best way to calm Sabine was to overlap one annoyance with another.

"I hate dances."

Ezra blinked, surprised by the sudden information. Not a very 'Sabine' thing, to casually reveal her dislikes. Another fact he'd chalk up in his head - Sabine doesn't mix well with dance.

"That's… fine. It's not like we have to cross the dance floor."

"You better not."

Ezra paused in contemplation and curiosity, then jumped ahead and cut her off.

"What's with you and dancing? I thought you were an artist."

Sabine offset her hips, a physical stance that dared Ezra to interrupt or disagree.

"First off, I'm bad at it - as a Mandalorian, I haven't wasted any time learning how. Second, the music itself is boring and uninspired. And third off, I don't particularly enjoy blending into a crowd of drones and clones that move in the exact same motion for 30 minutes."

"...Fair enough." Ezra acquiesced, backing away and letting Sabine proceed, while he took a moment to scan the crowd and soak in the scene.

The event reached all the way to the massive steps of the Imperial Academy, where a number of Imperial Stormtroopers stood guard. Ezra could see the people filling the enormous open space, so many gentlemen and ladies and ruffians and scoundrels. The divide between social status was quite clear: Most of the people milling about the standing tables and sipping drinks were high-class, gold-leaf dotting their masks and guards at their flanks - while most of the people gravitating towards the dancing and other entertainments wore solid or rusted iron masks. Ezra's casual jacket-and-pants combination and Sabine's jet black mandalorian armor looked a tad awkward, but at least there were others who took their disguises seriously enough to dress differently as well. They were blending in just fine.

Ezra narrowed his eyes, inspecting the wealthy iron-dukes, recalling Lando's discussion on their nature as prospective clients. Naturally, trying to find a shady dealer looking for a score was rather hit and miss, but Ezra had street-smarts and enough exposure to Hondo Ohnaka to know what he was looking for.

That, and the Force. It was tugging him and cascading him with emotions and concepts, and as he thought, pictured, believed in the rebellion, his gaze settled on a rather bored man standing by a table apart from the rest. He stood gazing at his elegant alcohol flute, swirling the contents in boredom as two protocol droids stood guard and a man spoke to him with a desperate impatience. The drinking man's mask was hideous quite hideous - a disturbing imitation of the gaping maw of a Rancor beast.

"Come on." He announced as he made his way over, leaving Sabine to stutter and hurry after him.

"Spectre Si... Ezra, _what are you doing_?"

"Getting intel, what else?"

As Ezra approached the dealer, the man attempting to get the businessman's attention lost approval or ran out of time, as one protocol droid stepped forward and raised its staff to push the man away. The businessman took a draught in privacy, then narrowed his eyes as Ezra stepped into his field of vision.

"Now what's this? Can't a man enjoy a drink?"

"Listen, I'm a good friend of yours. Heard you were interested-"

"Name?"

"Dev." Ezra responded cooly.

"Haven't heard of you, and I can't understand why you'd think I'd be willing to do business. So... Skrog off now will you?"

Sabine exhaled grumpily, but Ezra was undaunted and experienced to dealings in the black market. Even as the protocol droid began its approach the Jedi-in-training pressed forward, swagger unabashed.

"C'mon pal, you wouldn't push away one of Lando's buds, would you?"

The Rancor took his sweet time in contemplation, and just before the staff collided with Ezra's nose, the man raised a hand with a whisper, and the droid stopped.

"Lando, huh? Didn't know he had a partner."

"We're… associates. Not surprising that he hasn't mentioned me, who likes to cut the credit? I'm a freelancer - I do a lot of work with a lot of businessmen: Azmorrigan, Vizago, Hondo…"

"Hondo Ohnaka? The Weequay Pirate?"

"...The one and only." Ezra concluded proudly, folding his arms.

"Hondo's a pretty slippery son of a blaster - got some pretty good loot from him during the Clone Wars." The man recalled, stroking his chin. "Alright, Dev. Consider me interested: What have you brought to Shu-Torun? What are you selling?"

"Well, at the moment, uh…" Ezra stuttered, quickly thinking up something rare and precious and valuable..."Meilooruns."

Sabine blinked. Twice. Three times.

"Meilooruns." The businessman repeated.

"...Kyber-grade Blood-Meilooruns." Ezra corrected and lied and struggled and scrambled for legitimacy. "...freshly picked, no taxes or fees. Some guy here likes'em for cheap, and who am I to judge? I just... listen and provide, you know?"

"You know... I'm actually quite a sucker for Meiloorun liquor." The man said, presenting his flute to highlight his point. "Quite a rare and under-appreciated drink - the buyer may be interested in his or her own brand."

Ezra nodded. "You said that - what my cargo is isn't any of my business, savvy?"

"Ore-Duke Lastar." The man said, presenting his hand for Ezra to shake.

"Dev Morgan." Ezra replied casually, accepting the offered hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, Dev. And your companion?"

"She's… assurance."

The duke laughed, as Ezra chuckled along, making sure not to cast a sidelong glance at his colleague. "What a dashing one, as well! Klir, say hello."

On cue, a cameo-field shut down on the right of one of the protocol droids, replaced with a menacing Iridonian warrior brandishing a charged baton with a serrated edge.

"It's nice to see new faces in the… 'service'... I like the homage to the Fetts, ma'm!"

"Thanks." Sabine acknowledged sharply, clearly irritated that the Duke didn't see the connection to Mandalorians.

"Mandalorians always hate that when I mix it up." Lastar snickered knowingly. "I prefer subtly: those who don't announce themselves, like Cad Bane or Embo… Klir and her twin Sorr here are quite skilled at cloaking technology."

"Good taste." Ezra agreed, trying to sense Sorr's location through the force. All he got was Sabine's curiosity and how much she was struggling to suppress questions about her two favorite bounty hunters.

"So what's your business here, Dev?"

"Well, I've gotten my hands on a couple of dirty T-7 Ion Disruptors… Was thinking if you knew anyone who would be interested."

"Dirty, you say." Lastar muttered.

"May not be able to read the serial numbers, yeah."

Lastar grinned, understanding the implication. "Sounds like a rebel job."

"Well, I know no rebels…"

"...then I'd be happy to direct you."

"For a price, I assume?"

"Obviously." The duke wheezed out through a widening smile, enjoying Ezra's company for some strange reason.

"Let's hear it."

"Well, I'd love to start off with a dance with your 'assurance'."

 _On the light of Lothal's moons - please for the love of every speck of stardust - please no_. Ezra thought desperately, fearing for both his life and Lastar's. Thankfully, the Ore-duke just kept grinning as he finished his drink, playful and casual and blind to the truth.

"But... I don't feel like cutting that deal _just_ yet. Tell you what, Dev: Sub-level 30, Hangar bay 97, the Rodian. Before 1200. I believe the codeword is 'Strongest as one'. Consider it a favor."

"...Really?"

"Sure! Never heard of a 'Dev Morgan', but if things go well, we might have something - with the people you've worked with, I'd be a fool to pass you."

"I won't disappoint you." Ezra promised, before turning away and addressing Sabine as a smuggler would address a lackey. "Let's go."

"Just... one last thing."

The duke was still eyeing the two.

"What's the name of your friend here?"

Ezra cast a sidelong glance as quickly as he could, visible enough for Duke Lastar to see that he had heard him, quick enough for him to not catch Sabine's glare, and long enough for him to come up with a convincing name.

"Melch...a."

"Melcha… What an interesting name for such a _beautiful_ partner. Another rookie, I take it? Maybe we'll sign some contracts in the coming years, hm?"

Sabine was as mute as the protocol droid, and bowed slightly with one arm across her chest, trying her very best to grace her face with a slight smile. Then she spun around and walked off, leaving Ezra to bid a sweeter, more convincing farewell.

Sabine led the way into the thicket of party-goers, silently giving Ezra a message of her mood. From how quickly she walked away from the libertine duke, and how sharply she glanced at anything in front of her, Ezra knew she would not be in the mood for banter. But Sabine was a smoldering sort of person - like a Wookie. 'A Wookie never forgets': she would hold on this for the entire night unless Ezra dragged her out of the rut. He was used to Sabine yelling at him, just like she had gotten used to yelling... so why not?

"Well, Melcha?"

"..."

"First piece of the puzzle is waiting at Sub-level 30. And there's still…" Ezra began, checking his clock.

"...Four hours left." Sabine finished, quickening her pace. "Let's just get this over with."

"Hey!" Ezra prodded, sensing the resentment and trying to shine a light on the positives. "That was some solid work we put in there, right?! See now: what harm did a couple of lies do? Relax!"

She sighed and began to slow down: "It's not about the lies. It's about your aptitude for chaos, your recklessness."

"...And the cover name, I know." Ezra drawled with a good-natured swagger. "I-."

" _Sheb_ the kriffin' name," Sabine growled, dropping a Mandalorian explicative to cut Ezra off and strangle his good humor. "You gotta give me some time, a minute, _something_."

Ezra shrugged as he took the defensive, a disarming smile and hands above his head. "You don't give me a minute when you pull out the explosives."

"Sometimes I give the explosives to _you_. You always just… go solo!"

Ezra exhaled slowly, lowering his hands and his spirits to be more serious. "I get carried away, sorry. Tapping into The Force makes me a bit impulsi-."

"Not impulsive. Unreadable. A moment we're going one way and then boom hey presto your magical 'Force' makes you ride a Purgill."

"Well when you put it like that..."

"I'm the one telling you this, Ezra. I know I can be pretty impulsive, but the sort of stuff you pull off is going to hurt you in the long run. What are you going to do when you start working with other operatives?"

She looked back at him as they continued to walk forwards, her eyes not really mad but certainly unhappy. It made Ezra's spirits drop further despite the festivities, and he nodded back. It was strange: he had never considered working alone, without a Spectre by his side...

"Alright, alright... I read you."

"And the name is _Rhea Talla_." Sabine concluded, a strangely gentle statement to finish the dispute.

Ezra slapped his face, almost dislodging his mask.

"Karabast! I keep forgetting!"

Sabine breathed out, slightly amused. "No surpises there. Now nerve-burn this guard and let's get to crashing this meeting."

* * *

"... Hmmm…"

...

"What?"

"Did you feel that?"

The man clad in black stared at his female companion with an incredulous frown.

"Feel what?"

"A disturbance."

"The only thing I feel is a nasty itch on my rear."

"Then _focus please_." The female inquisitor demanded, fed up with the snark of her comrade. She knew well enough that his connection was strong, powerful enough to have felt whatever pins had pricked the underside of her fingernails. But her fellow inquisitor only shrugged, reveling in her annoyance.

"Just some lousy child adrift in a sea of Toruns. Maybe worth collecting, but we stay focused on the mission at hand. We play are Lord Vader's eyes and ears at this meeting, dearie. Follow your orders."

"Yes, Ninth Brother."

* * *

Furnace air is violent - whatever Coruscant was, it certainly didn't have such painful breezes that scorched your hands, letting the metal rungs burn through your gloves. It didn't help that every few minutes Ezra and Sabine would have to brace against the heated metal as a whip of air flooded past them and slammed into the wall of the Academy. The comfort of the ball was a taunting memory when you were walking up a vertical wall threatening a drop of a couple miles. Looking up didn't help much: the underbelly of a Star Destroyer blotted out the night sky, it's floodlights and dull grey exterior mixing with the red hue of Shu-Torun's lava in a disgustingly hypnotizing fashion.

"How much further?" Ezra grumbled to nobody, mentally slapping himself for saying that out loud.

"You're the one to tell, genius." Sabine grumbled back, a couple rungs below him. " _How much further_ , Spectre 6?"

Ezra looked around the curvature of the pillar, just enough to see the corner of the landing pad. The ladders they climbed on were guarded by metal sheets both sides, in a vain attempt to block the wind. The Force-dazed stormtrooper down below had no way of seeing them, nor did the guards on the landing platform - as long as he didn't stick his neck out too far.

On top of finding their physical location and staying out of sight, Ezra was also searching and reaching out through The Force, trying to ascertain greater knowledge. He felt a darkness in a lit room, a black pillar in the center and a host of asphalt stalactites reaching down…

"30 more rungs!" He responded, before another premonition racked his brains. "Twenty seconds - hold tight - It's going to be a big one."

Twenty-one seconds later, a fearsome maelstrom rushed past them - enough to make Ezra lose grip with one hand, spinning around and staring down at the capital. Sabine hissed in surprise and concern, unable to help, but the padawan's left arm held fast. Once the air died down, he swung back and resumed the climb.

"Could you try and _not_ show off?"

"Well, you know I can't help it." Ezra snarked back. "...Here we are, just so you know."

The duct entrance was all too easy to remove, and soon enough they were crouching through a system of humming pipes, moving around the pillar towards the landing platform. The dull ringing of the pipes weren't the only thing Ezra felt reverberating in his throat, in the nape of his neck. The Force was responding to his search for knowledge - tugging at his skin quietly, urgently, warning him of things to come.

"Sabine, just so you know: The Spooky Force guy is sensing something." Ezra muttered.

"Sensing what, Ezra?"

"Something I don't like, so… give it the ol' Sabine 150 percent, ok?"

"...When do I ever not give it 150 percent..."

"Eh, sometimes you give a measly Mandalorian 130." Ezra joked back, trying to overlap his sincerity with positivity, as they turned right and began to walk underneath the landing pad's walkway. The safety of the tunnel gave way to the open air, forcing the pair to grip and step on poles and ladder joints that vibrated with the thrum of the approaching Imperial Vessel.

Carefully, they raced the ship to the platform, reaching it just as it touched down and activated it's hatch. The wind howled around them, deafening and isolating.

"Karabast, I can't hear a blasted thing." Sabine said, her voice barely audible in their com-set. Ezra turned around, and closed his eyes and gently, ever so carefully planted his hand on her shoulder. The human contact stood out from the harsh emptiness of the wind and it's white noise, strangely comforting. The gales melted away, and the two rebels suddenly began to listen to the footsteps echoing off of the metal platform, the cape snapping in the breeze, and the irritated voice that drifted out into the sky.

"Blasted fireworks - how much were we delayed? Three minutes?" The principle muttered as he stepped off of the craft's ramp. Next to him walked two pitch-black troopers, their vocals a disturbing burst of squawks and hisses, the rest of the deathtrooper squad rushing past them to secure the platform.

Walk.

Sabine blinked as she began to move forward, obeying Ezra's command even though she didn't hear him say it, only just realizing Ezra's use of The Force. They began to shadow the irritated Imperial officer from below as he stomped towards the Imperial complex, keeping in range to hear his exasperated words and orders.

"Do not embarrass me… check the vents and secure that room... I've been on this rock for 3 months - for the host to be the last one to arrive is..."

The man extremely disturbed, but there was an eagerness to his step, and an air of profound self-worth and importance: as if he would singlehandedly change the fate of the Universe. Sabine was so focused on surveilling the enigma, getting lost in Ezra's connection, that she stepped past one of the metal rails and straight down into thin air.

The link was broken as she gasped and fell forward, Ezra blinking and slipping out of his trance before reaching down to help the next second. He was one second too slow - Sabine had already recovered instantly, but with her slip the damage was done: Ezra's concentration and the link through The Force had been disrupted.

"Blast, I... ruined it." Sabine apologized quietly, frustrated by such an insignificant error.

"That's alright." Ezra said. "We heard enough. Thanks for the help."

"Alright… So: the ducts are going to be scanned - how are we going to get past that?"

"We sneak into the room, obviously."

Sabine blinked. Twice. Thr-

"Trust me?"

" _Ugh_."

* * *

For Sabine, this plan was getting worse by the second. At first they had planned to jerry rig some mouse droid with a recorder to do the spying, but since the commandos would sweep the ventilation system that was a bust. So now they were breaking into the conference room itself? Sabine had her doubts. Her massive doubts. But Mandalorians reveled in the challenge and in their commitment to loyalty, so she dutifully followed for the mission's objective.

Through a network of vents accessed in the ventilation corridor they had snuck up onto, they winded right and left, deeper into the Academy. At one point, they clambered what seemed to be a thirty foot funnel, straight up against the pull of the planet. Those were the moments Sabine hated bringing along her jetpack, suffering as her hands and her legs strained against the gravity, no footholds or latter joints to ease her burden. It didn't help that Ezra was used to this sort of work and made her look ugly at it... But she was less worried about Ezra's skill and more concerned about the sonic pulse that would soon echo through the ducts - if they were still inside the system they would be caught red-handed. Crawling through air ducts was tricky enough... running through them seemed impossible.

"How… much… further?" She whispered anxiously, doing her best to mask her discomfort. Everything about this mission was uncomfortable, throngs of delinquents at the dance, the flirty duke, the lack of armor, uncomfortable vambraces, hidden blasters, the absence of her rangefinder, Ezra's competence.

"Here."

The sheer climb hit a ninety-degree angle, and they moved on their knees again, for just a couple of meters. The grille unscrewed nicely, and suddenly Sabine could stand on her feet again… but she fought the urge to stand tall and stretch.

They had ended up on what seemed to be the ceiling level of a great dome, though the ceiling was not concave but flat, and had several black asphalt icicles dripping downwards. Walking slowly to the edge of the platform, voices began to whisper up from the bottom of the chamber. Sabine was almost hypnotized by the bright light emanating from the bottom of the conference room, but her heritage and discipline kept her eyes level.

There was a deathtrooper only two bantha lengths away from them, minding a readout panel next to the ducts. The commando seemed to be initiating the sweep, and when the job was finished…

"Ezra." Sabine whispered quietly, desperately: If the blasted trooper took a look around the top level he'd see them. All that mattered would be timing: would the trooper look to the right first, giving the two infiltrators two seconds to think of something? Or would he look to the left and see them instantly?

It was at that moment that Ezra drew her attention again, his hand outstretched and calming. Despite the darkness and intensity of this moment, from him blossomed a sense of silence and peace. The trooper looked to the right, walked to the right, and looked straight at the right, dazed and focused on guarding one specific vent to the room, as if it was the only one…

Sabine watched in wonder, and had to admit, The Force was powerful... and it was strongest when it was subtle: Weaponized human error or compulsion was not to be underestimated.

"... and Rebel activity in the sector has been severely under-estimated. If I am to make any headway with these skirmishes I need the full support of the 3rd Fleet."

"Scarif must be secured, and it will be secured."

She kneeled and made her way closer to the discussion, breathless and silent.

"Governor Tarkin, I respect your urgency, but the overcommitment to the security of Scarif…"

"...Is a temporary crutch, Motti. Whereas your patrols fail to lock down any leads on potential rebel bases - always devolving into a pointless scrimmage."

"Always a victory!" Was the incredulous response.

"Victory towards what? Open war? The planetary gate on Scarif will complete soon, ensuring security and freeing up Star Destroyers to seek out and crush rebel bases... but only if _you_ could find them! Your battles give the rebels more time to organize, and us _nothing_! I fail to see how a couple more Star Destroyers will change things."

Motti had nothing to say to that. Sabine felt a ghost of a smile grace her lips as she could almost imagine the arrogant officer stare down at his lap, bitter and humiliated. Her good humor darkened when Tarkin used this as an example for the rest of the council.

"This is not the time for weakness, gentlemen. Make no mistake: Our Empire no longer faces pockets of organized resistance, but full-scale rebellion. A corrosive, demoralizing, unpredictable, ruthless force… sustained by arrogance and ignorance, every stroke of luck and quirk of nature an excuse to further their cause. This fanaticism is an antithesis to our order and control, and can only be addressed by absolute victory: for even in the most crippling failures, the Rebels' enthusiasm for defiance increases. Grand Admiral Thrawn's tactics proved as much - when the Rebel outfit that he personally crushed - the notorious Phoenix Squadron - recovered in a matter of _months_."

Sabine fought the urge to smirk, loving the fact that no matter how demoralizing and devastating Thrawn's offensive was, it was considered a failure.

"I accept full responsibility for the failure of the operation." A demure, soft-spoken monotone Chiss replied, chilling Ezra and Sabine, but only seeming to infuriate Grand Moff Tarkin.

"No need for pragmatic humbleness, please. Your operation revealed more of the Rebels' true nature than anyone at this table! You forced Mon Mothma's hand, exposed the existence of rebellious Mandalorians, and gave us an understanding of the Rebellion's dependence on pyrrhic victories. Your ability to produces results will be replicated by the other fleets, whose stratagems have failed _so masterfully_."

"Admiral," Thrawn responded gently, "My previous tactics may be effective at containing and identifying Rebel strongholds, but have shown to lack the 'absolute victory' you speak of - something which I consider to be… an impossibility at this moment in time."

"Not for much longer." The irritable host interjected, eager to share his knowledge.

"...Which is why I used the present tense." Thrawn agreed in a sinister matter. "I am quite interested in your project, Director Krennic."

"You… already knew of the operation?"

"The Grand Moff Tarkin had explained the details of this project while we awaited you. I am particularly intrigued by your proposed timetable for the '01'."

"01?" Sabine whispered, partially to Ezra, partially to herself. The air weighing down on her like lead, colder than any frigid Mandolorian blizzard, just at the mention of two numbers. Director Krennic began his update on the '01 project' with that same grandiose air as he had arrived in: Proud and vain - so full of himself and his work.

"As you may know, ever since the reacquisition of Galen Erso, our project has experienced an exponential rise in productivity. With the chromium and rare metals of Shu-Torun and Kyber from Lothal, we can expect the project to complete within the cycle."

"Lothal, you say…" Thrawn repeated in contemplation, "Have you considered any alternative sources of the crystal? Jedha, for example."

"I… can't see why we should expect these shipments to… miss their quotas?" Krennic questioned, faltering in his confidence. "And most of Jedha's Kyber is stored within the Jedi Temple there, the act would..."

"With the chaos that the Rebellion threatens, and the fact that Phoenix Squadron is irreversibly tied to Lothal, I believe a pre-emptive course of action must be taken." Thrawn answered before Krennic could even continue. "Tarkin, we should take steps to _seize_ the resources required for this weapon, to ensure no delay to the construction."

"I agree with your sentiments, General." Tarkin replied, "But we cannot show our hand and give our opponents the knowledge that their days are numbered. The rebellion must be confronted in every city, every system, every hyperspace lane: They must believe that they can wage war, that they can resist. That they can organize, and congregate - that they can proceed as if they have all of the time in the Universe... But we will expedite the construction only when we are certain of the project's ability to fulfill it's promise."

"Sabine."

The voice was so smooth and so familiar and so close to her ear that she shuddered - the ever so faint current of Ezra's breath the first thing she noticed. She turned sharply to face him head on, angry that he had caught her by surprise. She hated when he did that - it seemed to shock her more than anything.

" _What_?" She hissed angrily, struggling to maintain composure and silence.

"Time to use the charges."

"What?!" Sabine repeated angrily. "We only just got here, there's more intelligence to gather!"

"We've heard enough. Sabine, we have to go. I can only hide so much..."

For a second, Sabine doubted him. In that second, the discussion had ground to a halt, replaced by silence, irritation, incredulity and _pure malice_...

"Inquisitor? Is something a matter?"

 _Sheb._ Sabine hissed internally, frustrated with Ezra's perception, her nagging lack of trust, and the sudden danger that they were facing. She quickly slipped out the detonator and slammed her thumb on the button.

Down hundreds of meters, fourteen charges that Sabine had planted during their jaunt through the power station ignited and completed a circuit where there should have been no circuit, _ever_. Electricity flowed momentarily before bursting forth as heat and chaos, as the Shu-Torun power grid coughed and sputtered to manage the sudden aberrations so close to its heart. The lights momentarily dimmed in the room, and the system sweeping the ventilator shafts flickered off completely.

"What was that?" Krennic snapped angrily, as Ezra and Sabine retreated to the confines of the ventilation grid. The Deathtrooper on their balcony walked over to the panel, reactivating it and switching it to a diagnostic mode, squawking it's response to Krennic's earpiece.

"...A power-surge from the lower levels." Krennic apologized to the rest of the council in a matter of seconds. "Pay it no mind, gentlemen: A more pressing matter is the tithe that our Emperor expects to levy on Shu-Torun."

"What about it?"

"My purchases of Chromuim and Durasteel have already strained the devling citadels of the planet. Any more demands may convince some Ore-dukes to dope their stores in order to reach the quotas, or worse..."

The discussion slowly dwindled away as the two Rebels slide down thirty feet of duct and out to safety.

* * *

End Chapter


	3. The Long Night Begins

.

Chapter 3

The Long Night Begins

* * *

Ezra and Sabine nearly slid down the ladder with how much adrenaline was surging through their systems. They felt vital, crucial to the survival of the rebellion, even when the intelligence they had pilfered from the Imperial Conference could be considered some of the most general facts imaginable:

1\. The Empire was building something…

...Since when was the Empire _not_ building something? There was always another Star Destroyer under construction, another command post being erected, another prison established. The Empire was continuously growing, building monuments to it's glorious tyranny and weapons to fiercely spread it's autocratic rule.

2\. Some man named Galen Erso was involved and working on Director Krennic's project.

...What fun! Apparently someone named Thrawn was involved as well. Wow! How compelling and unexpected! And don't forget Tarkin! Genius! Some extremely ground-breaking knowledge! Why not consider Darth Vader for the hell of it?! Sarcasm aside, names didn't help much at all. There were thousands of data loggers and Imperial officers, and what good could come out of one name?

3\. It was something big.

 _Since when did the Empire go **small**?_

4\. Scarif was a crucial system to the Empire.

So is Coruscant.

But despite the extremely obvious nature of these facts, and the cynicism of the two rebels, together these morsels of stolen knowledge harmonized into a compelling narrative. An unfinished narrative, clearly, but it was something that the two rebels sensed would change the fate of the universe. They reveled in this secret knowledge that they shared, as well as the subtle urgency of getting as far away from that Inquisitor as possible.

"What do you think?" Sabine shouted to Ezra, ignoring a gust of Torun wind as they approached the foot of the ladder.

"The project?"

"Yeah. Some sort of battlestation?"

"Maybe some sensor array? A massive gravity well like the Interdictor?"

"No idea." Sabine announced as she landed on the ground, eyes darting about to try and spot any guards. "Kyber means some serious power, though. Maybe it's not just one structure, but an array of some sort…"

"The did refer to it as some sort of weapon..." Ezra responded as he dropped down with her. "Chormium is used a for Hyperdrives, right? It might be some sort of improved Interdictor cruiser."

Sabine didn't respond as they came in sight of their final challenge - the restricted perimeter. After slowly tip-toeing past the feckless watchman, moving past strange trees towards the dancing crowds, she finally replied.

"Yeah, but Chromium is also fantastic at handling radiation and laser fire, so who knows... who cares? What matters is that we have _leads_ : Scarif seems like a good start, don't you think?"

"I'm partial to Galen Erso, actually."

"Of course you are." Sabine sighed. "Ezra Bridger, always the people person."

"And you're such the… explosives person?"

Sabine chuckled, the tingling nerves making her more open and willing to share emotion. Ezra was _so bad_ at comebacks, but his doggedness and persistence revealed the hidden truth he really didn't care. He knew that she enjoyed the faux antagonism, and she appreciated that willingness to squabble and spar. It was through this war of words that Ezra gave Sabine a chance to pick fights and speak her mind.

Her smile was cut off by Ezra's arm reaching across her shoulders, barring her way. Ezra had frozen up as they had just started to make their way left around the crowd and towards the bridge leading out to the Capital. His eyes was focused right, looking up the steps and towards the massive doors of the Academy.

"What's the matter?" Sabine asked nervously. Ezra didn't respond to Sabine's question, but the doors did, creaking and opening outwards with a noise that somehow stood out despite the cacophony of music and dance. There was nothing but a black void leading into the academy poured out into the open air, it's staleness and chilled stench almost visible as it diffused outwards into the atmosphere, spilling down the steps like condensation gas.

From the pitch, the Inquisitor stalked out, it's modified dual lightsaber unactivated but gripped in its left hand. On each side were two deathtroopers, carrying E-11 rifles and Imperial rangefinders primed. The acolyte of the Sith took a moment to soak in the crowd, it's helmet obscuring its face as it panned about, but Sabine could tell when its eyes rested on them.

"Karabast." Sabine muttered before she felt Ezra's hand wrap around hers and drag her forward. His voice was sharp, distant and driven, and Sabine had to struggle to keep up with his words.

"Spectre 5... I know you're not going to like this but you know this is kinda not up to debate right now but you _really_ have to try and take it with stride alright ok awesome sounds great..."

Sabine nearly screamed in realization that they were going into the maze of partygoers, and responded with her own stream of words, much more colorful than his.

"Nononono Ezra no oh chit you have to be _kriffing_ me. I can't do this sort of-!"

"Can't, or won't?" Ezra laughed out as the noise crashed around them, turning to face her as he pulled her very close, one arm outstretched and another arm around her waist. Before the Mandalorian could push away or break off, he was already spinning, dragging her along for the ride deep into the pack. He put on a smile even as Sabine bared her teeth at him and brought her fist down on the gap between his shoulder and his neck, not appreciating his snide remark, and certainly not enjoying the fact that they were spiraling even deeper into the mass of dancers.

"Put your hand on my shoulder a bit more gently: and a _one two three  one two three_..."

"You blasted… "

"Eyes on the Inquisitor!" Ezra whispered back urgently through the din, still smiling, and Sabine complied, trying to peer across the sea of dancers to get this dismal affair over with. Thank the stars that the tune was at least a lively one, but at the same token she had no idea how to dance to it. She just... swayed in place, dragged onwards by Ezra's nimbleness.

"They're coming over here."

"Well blend in more, Spectre 5! Loosen your feet, shimmy a bit! I know you're bad at dancing but _this_..."

"Spectre 6, I'll loosen your jaw."

"With your tongue I hope-" Ezra whispered back with a devious, devilish smirk.

Sabine hissed at the joke, glad that her heel had been able to hit it's mark on Ezra's toe. The padawan yelped but kept dancing, in pain but still grinning as he coaxed her into a more lively waltz, dipping a shoulder and giving their dance a bit of a bounce.

"Now _that's_ what I call lively! Just move side to side, follow my lead."

Sabine just shut her eyes and tried to forget about her discomfort and frustration. Ezra knew her buttons, and it frustrated her that he couldn't take things seriously when she knew he was more than capable. She wanted to laugh and smile, just pass this irritation just as another one of Ezra's ridiculous antics, but the fear…

The fear of the Inquisitor, the importance of the mission and the danger of failure, the absolute absurdity of this shoddy attempt of a dance, all of this apprehension found no comfort in Ezra. He just laughed and joked, discounting her concerns as if she was complaining about a cloud in the sky... as always. She knew how warm and secure Ezra could make people feel, from an impoverished and hungry child to the desperate parent. She saw how he reached out tenderly and instilled hope, granted resolve and peace of mind. It was his gift, something he had before he became so talented in The Force… so why did he share so willingly with others, with such truth and sincerity… and not her? Not like he hadn't helped her before: But why couldn't he charm her now?

She followed Ezra's lead, irate but eager to get his latest ploy over with so she could give him a piece of her mind. When he dipped, she followed him, when he threw her away, she spun back. When he smiled...

She smiled.

"There we go!" Ezra exclaimed happily, sky blue eyes brighting evermore as he noticed that she was finally following his lead and mirroring his disposition. Sabine instinctively added a more vicious and exasperated tint to her grin, but being caught up in the moment seemed to evaporate her apprehension and negativity. The wily padawan had charmed her after all - even though it wasn't exactly the peaceful sort of anesthesia she was looking for.

Of course, Sabine was clumsy. But with Ezra she was able to look semi-decent, and together they made good progress through the swarm. He slowed down their tempo midway, allowing them the chance to sway in a massive of laughing and cheering adolescents, matching their steps and beat, but free to look and speak as they pleased.

"Do you see her?" Sabine asked, peering over Ezra's shoulder and to her sides.

"No. But we're almost at the edge of the crowd. Here."

Ezra broke away from her and the dance, save for one hand, a tether to lead her out of the rabble. Gratefully the Mandalorian followed him, exiting out of the mass of people and back to the entrance of the venue, where the standing tables stood, mostly empty and more importantly, with no Inquisitor in sight. Duke Laster had vanished as well. The snarky crime boss reminded her of the annoyance she held for Ezra at the start of the dance, the embarrassment and the frazzled nerves of escaping the Inquisitor...

"See? All good. Now let's see what our rebel friends have to say!"

" _She'buy'ce_." Sabine muttered to nobody, wanting to lead the way and leave all of this behind but unwilling to call attention to herself. She found herself burnt out with Ezra at the moment, but a tired smile stuck to her face. Despite the initial rush of betrayal, she had no reason to be angry at him: The world didn't end. While she didn't like dancing with Ezra, maybe the fact that they didn't have a lightsaber through their guts made the whole experience feel just a little bit more bearable.

"Hm?" Ezra muttered, picking up on Sabine's statement but not versed in her native tongue.

"Let's get going, nerve burner." Sabine responded quickly, outstretching her hand to give Ezra the lead. The young jedi began to walk forward, but soon froze in his tracks.

"Ugh... Yeah, well, about that..."

* * *

Third Sister frowned as her eyes hopped from person to person in the crowd, trying to identify the disturbance as she quietly prowled around the cantankerous mass of civilians. She had grappled and squeezed The Force for guidance and answers, but it's hints were difficult to understand, almost uncooperative. There _was_ a Force sensitive in the crowd, she was sure of it, but her focus on the individual was unsteady, at times vanishing altogether. With this erratic flux in her connection, this maddening blindness in The Force, Inquisitor was growing more and more certain that the person was absconding itself, hiding it's nature to her.

She knew the person was amongst the partygoers - the gravity pulled her to this mass of dancers, at least that was certain. She looked across the ocean of bobbing heads, the redheads and the blondes and the brunettes, but none of them elicited a response, their masks laughing back at her. Wherever this force user was, they would never be identified at this distance - the Inquisitor needed a more personal, a more _intimate_ connection.

So let them come to her. She spoke out loud, assuming that the troopers would be listening.

"Lock down this level."

* * *

"You know what they need in these?"

"What."

" _Music_."

Sabine groaned lightheartedly while Ezra grinned at his own joke, as they stood waiting in the turbolift, falling back down to the lower levels. It had taken a bunch of shadow-stepping to sneak around the perimeter guards once again, but they had found an empty lift. It beat the alternative:

The Inquisitor had cut them off by locking down the main causeway to the academy, assisted by a group of Deathtroopers. While they made no move to test or apprehend any of the partygoers who were trailing out of the venue, Ezra made it clear to Sabine that he not be able to hide his identity at such a close range.

So they would have to take what previously was the riskier route, sneaking back onto the level where they had first entered the Imperial block - the problem being that all of the sabo-charges would mean many of the bridges would be inaccessible due to personnel repairing the damage and likely one very irate and confused Torun guardsman.

"You know, you have a point." Sabine admitted. "Why _don't_ they play music in turbolifts?"

The lift shuddered to a stop at the desired location, and Ezra nodded thoughtfully, processing two different thoughts at once.

"No idea, but no use fixing this one… Maybe at our new base you can spruce things up." Ezra proposed, before returning to the mission at hand. "Nobody outside - we're clear."

As the doors opened and they stepped out into the hallway, walking quickly towards the exit outside. The power generator thrumming behind them, Sabine suddenly had an epiphany.

"Wait one second - you think I'm going to let you inflict your Lothal junk to the entire squadron?"

"Oh come on." Ezra sighed as they approached the door. "It's not _that_ bad. Weren't we supposed to have some Life Day party or something? ...Before Thrawn screwed everything up. We're gonna need some gnarly sound system, so why not make it more permanent?"

"Oh yeah, the celebration." Sabine exclaimed, remembering that old talking point. "Wasn't really a big priority, though. Just a moral booster. Phoenix Leader hasn't brought it up since."

"Not surprising." Ezra muttered, thinking back to Thrawn's offensive as he poked his head out the door, checking all angles, before motioning with his hands for her to follow.

"Not surprising." Sabine agreed, dropping the discussion and proceeding with stealth.

Sparks arcing through the air and filling the silence with jolts of static and electric charges, the industrial platform wasn't a comfortable or safe place to be. Recently sealed electrical conduits now showed burns and partial melts due to the surge of energy that followed the detonations. Despite the power thrumming through the walls and wires, most of the lights were shorted out, and instead the way was lit by dim power strips built into the walkway, guardrail, and ceiling.

The walkway itself was almost as cramped and exposed to the elements as the service ladder or the maintenance walkway underneath the Imperial landing platform. It circled the entire pillar, extending out only to anchor the bridges that leapt out from it. Durasteel beams extended outwards from the complex to support the main reactor platform above them, creating nooks and crannies, some of which showed signs of welding and tagging - street artists and maintenance crews at work - both trying to erase one another's work.

Out in the distance an Imperial patrol transport was moonlighting as a spotlight, focusing it's intense beams on the first bridge Sabine had rigged, the bridge they had crossed. The vehicle's stabilizer blades were quiet, but Sabine could hear more drifting downwards to sweep the area. Little lights blinked in and out amidst the smoking structure, workers trying to piece together and fix the damage done. Some other links to the grid would have similar damage, but the scale of damage wouldn't be suspicious to the workers or engineers - a single miniscule error in such a massive power network tended to have such damaging consequences.

Ezra motioned to Sabine, pointing towards another bridge in the opposite direction. It was simply too dangerous to try and make the journey across a bridge in this sector, with the congregating ships and the workers sweeping the area: Sabine could already see the glint of flashlights approaching around the bend of the curved walkway. They would take the long route to the docks then, moving through a residential pillar of the city and then crossing over another bridge to the pillar that held Lando and the fabled rebels.

Doubling back and passing the entrance to the turbolift, trying to keep silent despite the metal walkway, the two rebels made it about forty feet before they were blocked off by another set of flashlights. Ezra whispered a curse as they turned back to retreat to the exit and hide in the complex… only to have the shiny glass doors slide open and few more engineers walk out into the opening. Ezra and Sabine froze, then dove into the grooves to avoid the piercing gaze of a flashlight and buy some time.

"Karabast."

"You can say that again." Sabine grumbled back, irritated about the small space that they were stuck in. Since Ezra was stuck to the wall, she was the one who had to peer out of the darkness to spy the location of the engineers. Pulling back, she breathed deeply to sum up their situation.

"Three of them - coming this way. You got this?"

"Got what?"

"Your mind tricks, Spectre 6. What do you think I was talking about?"

"Woah, woah. Three is a bit too much."

Sabine blinked and peered close at Ezra, as if trying to understand the statement.

"Too much? What's too much?!"

"There are three of them!"

"You've tricked like five people up until this point. The guard on the bridge, the guy on the turbolift…"

"Spectre 5, it's differen-"

"The guard at the dance, the guard at the stairs, the Deathtrooper… five people! You're a trick machine!"

"But this is three in one go! _Totally_ different."

" _Different_?!"

"Yes! **_Different_**!"

It was frustrating that Ezra wasn't able to bail them out of this, it was more annoying that Sabine couldn't knock him across the head because the space they hid in was too small for that. Him and his mystical powers, so useful and at the same time so kriffing useless. His defensive gestures were inches away from her face, adding to the Mandalorian's growing claustrophobia. The footsteps clanging down the hall, an impending doom that was only seconds away, certainly didn't help matters as well. Ezra also had started to lose nerve, beginning to reach down to his belt to produce his lightsaber.

Sabine was furiously thinking, as the adrenaline that had just gone dormant in her veins since the conference and the dance spiked once again. She rushed to stop Ezra's rashness - no matter how smoothly it would go, attempting to dispose of the three was just too dangerous, with all of the spotlights panning about. Grasping his hand and shoving it away from the lightsaber, Sabine tried to make it clear to Ezra that they had to stick to guile. But what would they do? They didn't have time to talk - the flashlights and their carriers would be in earshot in moments. So what would _she_ do? How would Ezra respond?

"Sabine." Ezra growled, his tone rising with confusion and panic. "What are you doing?"

Good question: What _was_ she doing? But a better question: was there an alternative? They couldn't hide in this space - it was bright enough with the glow-panels, and the approaching surveyors carried light with them. All Sabine had left was guile. Trickery. Sabine knew it was the best shot they had, but she didn't know how to explain it. Adrenaline made her lips dry and her heart race much too quickly - whatever she was thinking of - she was doing. No turning back.

 _Shab it all._

She continued to lean in, raising her other hand and grabbed Ezra by the shoulder, pulling her up and close to his face. Very close.

Too close.

* * *

Imagine your surprise: a short occurs in energy conduit 45-C and blows out twenty other links in the Capital System before your fist connects with the Emergency Kyber Purge button, making the oscillation of the crystals drop by almost 30% to prevent more blowouts. A once and a lifetime save that you are extremely, _extremely_ proud of, but will get no reward for, only more snark from the Imperial overseer and his filthy committee. At least you get the wonderful irritation that the system will fluctuate for the hours to come - no more massive calamities but many dim lights and sudden blackouts are now in the horizon. Lots of work for you and your night crew, and a whole lot of fun and excitement for the rest of the populace, who will obviously be emboldened by the blackouts, exploring more forbidden activities in the darkness and shadow. It beats the boring, uneventful routine for everyone, at least.

You and two of your cohorts were already exhausted and annoyed for missing most of the festival: You were able to enjoy the morning festivities as you clocked for a nightshift - not willing to lose your life in the chaotic evening of the holiday, but jealous enough to see all of the debauchery and hedonism in the undercity thanks to some holo-programs and party shows. Maybe next year, you think, when you save up for a blaster or splice tool for some security. Then you'll have a fun time like the academy days.

You were headed off to check for any structural damage - fixing the network may take a couple days but stabilizing the crystal's oscillation with a weakened link is not good protocol . There were already groups of workers sweeping the system, but time was of the utmost importance, so that the Imps didn't come rushing down from their high horses and start dispensing unjust punishment.

And to add to all of this drama, you and two others come across some _skrogging interlopers locking lips in a restricted sector_ : the first of many taking advantage of the power outages. Probably two partygoers from the ball on the academy level, sneaking down for a beautiful view of the city from below, with an electric lightshow as an added bonus: As much as you can understand the romantic sentiment, you're trying to do your job. _Not here, not now, please_.

Your flashlights haven't glazed over the lovers just yet, and you're the last one to see the sight - your two comrades had just pointed them out to you, about 5 meters away, in the bloody lavalight. You make a motion to speak up and ruin this indecent affair when Alxae, your superior, turns around and motions you to do the same.

"They're hooking up!" You whisper angrily, defensively and about to throw down the book... Public Display of Affection in a non-public zone was _not protocol_.

"So is two-thirds of the kriffin' city, Plyon." Alxae shot back casually. "Let these two have their moment - there's no damage here and we can run a short energy diagnostic through this section to give them a little scare so they can scamper off and connect elsewhere."

You look beyond her and your other co-worker Ferrus, seeing that the other group down the walkway had gone far enough to check the rest of the conduits. Ferrus gave a little wave and the two other workers waved back, signaling that no damage was present in any of their couplings. Ferrus and Alxae retreat, and caught in the tide, you follow suit. Truthfully, it's not that big of a deal, and you're already grinning at the situation like your friends.

"Some girl - _she_ was the one pinning him to the wall. I love girls with bit of rebar in them, don't you?" Ferrus exclaimed with a dash of excitement as they distanced themselves from the lovers, while Alxae rolled her eyes in response.

"She needs that, poor romantic gal. Couldn't see much of the guy in the murk, but I could see he wasn't that good at kissin'." The reactor supervisor muttered. "Now let's get that diagnostic set up so we can get them outta here and spare that poor chap from embarrassing himself."

* * *

Sabine could hear the footsteps fade into the distance, but with how much blood was rushing through her body she was still frozen in fear and apprehension. How could she know they were truly gone? Ezra was the one to decide the manner by pushing her away with the shoulders, immediately putting his hands up to his face, his extremely red face.

"I didn't even kiss you, _coward_." Sabine grinned nervously, almost emboldened by what happened, stepping out into the walkway and looking up and down, confirming that the sweepers had left the area.

Her statement was only part true, and she could hear the truth in her voice: much too quick and much too terse... Shivering, even. When she had pressed her face up onto his, faking a lovers embrace, with no purposeful contact... but sometime amidst tilting her head and pretending, there was a friction that dragged across her lips. Touch. It was unsettling, embarrassing, and strangely electrifying. Not something Sabine liked to think about. Electrifying. They ha- _Stop._ She couldn't think about this.

"W-well... " Ezra tried to respond, just as frazzled and disoriented as the Mandalorian- or maybe even more so. "This… this is what I get for my impulsive antics... right?"

"Let's get going." Sabine declared, already walking towards the bridge and away from the subject in her classic Sabine manner. Ezra took a moment, rubbing his face to make sure that it was still there, that what he had felt wasn't a lie. Halfway towards the bridge entrance he opened his mouth to speak, but thought the better of it.

* * *

Want, desire, passion: Paramount virtues of the Sith. Third Sister was familiar with these emotions, these carnal engines of nature and life. She considered herself to be a savant at manipulating them, a force wielder whose connection with her needs granted her a determination and resolved unmatched. Other inquisitors were equally obsessed and absorbed in their own drives and foolish delusions of grandeur, but she considered herself destined for the title Grand Inquisitor. No one else.

Because it was this affinity to want that awoke her to a craving, strong in The Force and deep below her. Walking to the edge of the bridge, the Inquisitor looked out into the ferrous void and then down to the lower levels - surveying the patrol transports buzzing about the bridges that stretched out from the reactor complex. One of the bridges spoke to her - a nexus of emotion that was no longer hidden: A massive storm of longing and fear and _power_.

Her target had lost control, and was now visible to her through the force, ripe for the picking. Still, the Inquisitor couldn't help but feel that this person was only showing a fraction of it's inner turmoil, still trying to hide their talent in the Force. Even better: let The Brother feast on bitter meal of her success and his self-absorbed, self-destructive animosity - she would claim this prize alone. She cast a sidelong glance at the commanding Deathtrooper.

"Get me a speeder."

* * *

End Chapter


	4. Sparks Fly, Shadows Beckon

.

Chapter 4

Sparks Fly, Shadows Beckon

* * *

Darkness reigned and hooligans flourished in the dark, marked by pneumatic clangs of bolt guns and the electric sizzle of cutters and welding instruments. The power outage in the level made it a haven for the artisan gangs that Lando had talked about, all bustling around the Spectres as they marked their territory with newfound freedom. Laser fire echoed out like whisper in the distance, mostly obscured in the metallic chaos, the first peace-keepers catching vandals red-handed.

Ezra struggled to find a center, to achieve balance in the force, but the adrenaline and uncertainty made it hard form him to concentrate at all. There were so many things acting on him: his emotions, her emotions, the thoughts of the delinquents as they noticed him and Sabine, and a darker force suddenly pulling at his heels. It didn't help that he and Sabine hadn't spoken since their close shave at the power station - the awkwardness only added to his mental burden.

His chaos was alleviated slightly as they were tossed through a crowd of welders who dashed around the corner, nearly knocking them over. Ezra used the time connected with a kid to swipe her welding tool, so that they could possibly pass through the sector a bit easier, posing as welders. With just one more snag, he'd have an alibi for Sabine as well.

But deep within his soul, he could sense that their time was running perilously short. He fought the rising panic and anxiety, quickening his pace to catch up to his Mandalorian comrade.

"Spectre Five..." He muttered, glancing up to spy a couple of welders peering down on the two from up above. Had they seen his robbery? He wanted to warn her of the danger, but which one? The gang members? The darkness? Or their own emotional malaise?

"Sabine!" He whispered again, a bit more urgently. The Mandalorian was so absorbed and intent on studying at the kriffing artwork around them, purposefully aloof to the point where his impatience began to shine through his rather disoriented head. He rushed forward and grabbed her hand in his dark desperation, but by then it was already too late.

Sabine shrugged her hand away from Ezra, face unreadable but speaking in a rather frosty, irritated tone: She never liked it when someone grabbed her or surprised her. Especially Ezra - he could still remember her anger when he had surprised her on the Republic Medical Station, back when they first came across the Inquisitors.

" _What?_ "

Before Ezra could organize put his thoughts down into words, two scoundrels dropped to the ground before them, obscured by metal masks that looked and functioned more like helmets.

"Oi, scrawny!" A voice called out behind them, prodding Ezra to respond. "What's a guy like you walking without a crew here?"

Ezra spied the fusion cutters fastened to the hips of the trouble-makers: Welders. When he turned around he saw how the leader expertly spun the blackened and weatherbeaten tool in his hands before he activated it, a bright stem of thunder making a crackling and living blade. Flanked by a couple of grunts, the man waved the sparking weapon in Ezra's direction - expecting a weak response. But Ezra was no stranger to the street-life... In all truth this was a simple situation, one that Ezra had years of experience in getting out of: delinquents picking on some unlucky civilians out alone on a stroll. There wasn't any cause for alarm, as long as they played it cool and followed Ezra's lead.

"...Easy with that cutter, friend." Ezra started carefully, reaching back to his loth-rat roots. "I think you're the perfect answer to our little spat!"

He walked forward with arms outstretched, appearing undaunted by the leader's activated weapon. Ezra motioned to the metal facade beside them - it was freshly marked but a good excuse to bring the focus away from Ezra and Sabine.

"Personally I think that this is a nice piece of work, but she thinks it could use something." Ezra continued, jerking his thumb to Sabine's direction.

The leader's eyes, the only visible section of his face, squinted.

"Your lady, huh? What does she know but the hookup?"

Another attempt to intimidate, and with the sexual innuendo the group laughed in unison, and one of the blockers made a swipe at Sabine's rear... Big mistake. Before Ezra could reassure her or de-escalate, the Mandalorian caught the molester's hand and had some sadistic pleasure: Ezra visibly winced through the next couple of instants as Sabine painfully subdued the offender, step by step, before having him on his knees with a twisted arm and a blaster up to his face. Her face was dark with fury and eager to fight, with a noiseless snarl and her eyes staring daggers. The rest of the group activated the rest of their cutters, as the leader hissed out an angry curse.

"Blaster on the ground, whore!"

"Uh, buddy? As I was saying..." Ezra announced with a bit of a dissatisfied tone, as if the squabble was stealing his spotlight, trying to wrestle control of the situation by speaking directly to the leader in an almost joking whisper. "One welder to another - she's got rust."

"Rust?!" The man said indignantly, confused by Ezra's lax disposition. "This bitch has an ocean of rust to skrog around with us... n' So do you!"

With that the attention became split - those who wanted to rush Sabine, and those who were ticked off by Ezra's casual air. He quickly made a move to reassure the leader.

"Listen, listen! She's got touch, man. Let her add to the wall. Trust me."

"You don't even have cutters. You ain't us." The someone behind the head of the pack grumbled roughly, giving Ezra an opportunity.

"Hey man, of course I do." Ezra shot back hotly, presenting his stolen instrument and giving it a spin and a toss, activating it in motion to give him more credibility. "And she's a… test drive."

"A initiate." The man said angrily, but shifting his weight back, slightly surprised at Ezra's dexterity.

"Explains the roughness, right? Rhea, **drop him**. " Ezra exclaimed with a tint of fury, getting a better grip on the situation despite the chaos and warning her not to ruin things.

"Way too much dope in that girl's mix, bolt-head." The leader complained in an exasperated tone as he folded his arms. "Which crew do you belong to?"

Ezra answered without a pause. "Sub-level 30, Bay 79."

The man smirked, and his two escorts shifted in their boots, glancing at one another. "A rebel-rouser, are you?"

"And so is she." Ezra replied, tossing Sabine the cutter as she stepped up behind him. "Now Rhea, make it up to our friends, ok?"

"Sure thing, _Dev_." Sabine grumbled, with a tinge of resentment on the name. She swiped the splicing tool from Ezra's hand, still active, and after taking a long look at their surroundings, got to work. Ezra took the time to chat with the boss and acquire more information.

"Didn't know Bay 79 had such a rep."

"You guys don't have a rep." The man said, still unimpressed and sticking his face forward to size him up. "You have a notoriety. An underground notoriety."

"...Can you blame us?"

"Not really. Your scraps with the Imperial authorities always give us a laugh."

"Well, who can resist making a joke out of the Imps? We all do our part."

"True enough."

"Done." Sabine announced as she stepped back and tossed the welding tool directly at Ezra's face, forcing him to flinch while catching it. One of the hooligans flicked on a light to better appraise Sabine's work, and at least three of them tried to stifle their curiosity.

Sabine's first foray into metallurgical art made absolutely no sense to Ezra, who strained and tried to grasp a deeper meaning from the piece. He could see how the tips of the work arched skywards like her Phoenix moniker, but it was subdued: ever since Sabine and the rest of the crew learned of Thrawn's study of everything Phoenix squadron, including Sabine's art, she had begun to remake and reinvent her style to abscond her "fingerprints". Everything else, including Sabine's new style, Ezra couldn't understand: the beauty or the meaning to it. The melted lines on the wall seemed coherent, but the looked offset, faulty. Deep down, Ezra knew there was more to this piece. He gestured to grunt holding the light.

"Turn that light off, will you?"

In darkness, Ezra saw the true beauty of Sabine's work - her experimentation with contrast paying off. The shadows cast by the ridge of metal gave the work an almost three-dimensional, statue-esque quality. Irregularities in the burn became purposeful methods of giving an artistic flair - only truly appreciated underneath the glow of the single light-post that stood drooping down over the group, it's power supply flickering like the rest of the unstable network. Every couple of seconds, the art flashed into existence, and for a few moments, they could marvel at it before being drowned in the darkness and the glow-light.

"Purposeful shadows?" One of the welders said, speaking up. "Not bad, lass."

"She burns as well as she twists." The subdued grunt grumbled, massaging his sore arm.

"Nice catch." The leader admitted, nodding in agreement while punching Ezra in the shoulder. "Keep sharp, kid: and tell Wallox I say hello."

"Sure thing." Ezra affirmed, smiling despite the coldness shivering through his clothes. He sensed a frigid darkness nipping at his shoulderblades, gracious that the Welders were running off without any more questions: at least they would be safe. He turned to Sabine, eager to get moving, but dumbfounded when she blocked his way.

"Ezra."

"Spectre 5, let's get going."

"You should have-"

"Plugged them full of blaster shots? Sure. Right, look-"

"Use your _damn_ lightsaber for once and stop trying to play coy." Sabine growled, still offended by the way she had been jostled by the gang.

Ezra frowned at the adjective. "Coy? Says the _kisser_. Sabine, look, we don't-"

"Don't you use that against me - we had no other choice."

" _RRRRgh_! Well don't walk out into a freaking war zone! I was _trying_ to get you cover, an alibi. None of it would have happened if you didn't walk away from me." Ezra shot back, waving the welding tool in front of Sabine to highlight his point. "But no, the Mandalorian walks through the streets with her head in the clouds, asking for a fight! How could you not see how many vandals there were running about, not respond to me when I tried to get your attention?! I just did what you did on the energy level - whatever was needed to keep our cover from being blown. I mean... I pulled out _so_ much lingo out of my ass -you have _no_ idea how well I handled that, and how close you were _to screwing it over_. If you don't want to play coy, _listen."_

"I thought you liked that sort of stuff." The artist snapped back.

Ezra felt a tinge on his cheeks but the Dark Side was closing in and stars above she was being so confrontational stars above she was asking for this.

"And you aren't? I get it you don't like being my bodyguard, my little underling, my dance partner, but _stars be damned and let the crops die_ , Sabine! It's not on purpose, it's all an act for the mission. I can't help it if the people we have to deal with are shabs or shebs or whatever you call it. Why are you taking all of this so personally?!"

Ezra blinked, so irritated by this discussion that he had fell back to one of his mother's old curses.

"Didn't we just have a whole discussion on this very topic?" Sabine announced with indignation.

"Don't be a schutta, Sabine!" Ezra groaned, now relying on Hera's curses, the hairs standing on his neck. "What other choice did I have? Murder?"

And the cold, the cold that made his hairs freeze and his soul shiver, it was a jaw clamped onto his neck now. His own dark stirrings only seemed to intensify the empty feeling, and with the sensation he felt a pull at his fingertips, dragging his fingers behind him and down the road. The cold had changed Sabine as well.

"Ezra…" Spectre 5 murmured, her voice tame and quiet, her hazel eyes no longer biting, but worried and fearful. She was looking beyond him, to someone who had just turned the corner and had laid their gaze squarely on Ezra's back.

The padawan sighed. He knew.

"Just… walk with me."

They turned the corner and began to walk down a dim alleyway, out of sight only for a split second. They scarcely got to the third doorway before a grating voice swept past them.

"Halt!"

Ezra closed his eyes for quick meditation before looking to Sabine with a grin, a zany and reassuring grin like his father used to wear whenever he went out to confront the Imperials. He could see her eyes through the mask, how they softened despite the fear, thankful for the brash positivity.

"Watch out, Spectre 5. I'm _improvising_."

He spun around, pretending the fool. The act faltered to a halt when he saw the Inquisitor, crimson lighstaber in hand, marching down the alleyway.

"H-hey! What- who are you?" Ezra stammered, backing away as Sabine slowly followed his lead.

"Your captor, my elusive street-rat." The servant of Vader replied, her emanating from the visor with a metallic ring, drawing on her fury to hoist the rebel up in the air strangling him for breath. Sabine reversed direction, taking a step forward to protest, only for the red blade to cut through darkness, blocking her way and pointed at her chest.

"One chance to walk away, little girl. Your boy is dead to you." The inquisitor hissed, too focused on Sabine to notice Ezra reaching for his lightsaber. Sabine wasn't so blind.

"Oh no, I'm not quite finished with him _just yet_." Sabine growled, her hand wrapping around the hilt of her clan's ancestral weapon and ripping it out. Activating the darksaber and throwing her weight behind it's blade, Sabine managed to catch the Inquisitor's blade unawares, bringing it to the ground and making the Warrior stumble back in surprise and let loose a murmur of annoyance. Along with Ezra activating his own lightsaber, their opponent suddenly realized that she had severely underestimated these two partygoers. Her connection to the Force shuddered in fear, dropping Ezra to the ground and allowing him to join the fight.

It happened too quickly.

The Inquisitor activated the second portion of her lightsaber, but not to deflect Sabine but to address Ezra's offensive. Pushing together, the rebels pressed the Inquisitor, who strained to fight back two adversaries, searching for The Force to bolster… or rather salvage her position. But before she could materialize the Force, Ezra drew his sword back and struck low, then high, abusing his superior positioning and the Inquisitor's over-extension, stepping forward with each strike. The warrior of the Dark Side lost more and more control and played Ezra's game for a few more blows, desperately trying to regain control over the fight with each parry. Every time she tried to assert herself or summon The Force, however, Sabine and the Darksaber interrupted, forcing her back into the defensive. The mistake came soon enough: with a roar, the impatient acolyte tapped into the Darkness in an instant, flinging Sabine down the alley to ricochet off of a dumpster and side wall. But the momentary victory had led her into a losing position: with his opponent off-balance and wasting so much time to incapacitate Sabine, Ezra gave everything he had into his right hand, forcing red blade down while drawing his blaster with the left, firing a stun pulse that the Dark Side user had no time to reflect.

One, in the leg. Two, Chest. Three, Chest. Each round made the inquisitor twitch and spasm, who resisted the best she could, grunting and hissing with each blow as she struggled to power through the energy pulses.

Two more shots were needed fully incapacitate her. Despite the speedy victory, Ezra knew it was a facetious one: the only way he was able to pull off the maneuver was because of the element of surprise. If their foe had been prepared, they wouldn't have been so rash as to commit everything to disposing of Sabine, and any blaster shots would have been deflected by a rotating blade.

Well, enough of retrospective battle knowledge. Wiping the small collection of grime on his forehead, Ezra felt as though the experience had given him some ability to cleanse his system from stress. He turned around to see Sabine approach him, relieved that she wasn't seriously hurt by the throw. The look on her face made him finally understand what had been digging underneath his skin.

"...I just don't know if you like working with me, you know?"

"Ezra…" Sabine started awkwardly after a moment of muted surprise, disturbed by the question, but also pointing to the Inquisitor.

"She's not a problem right now." Ezra stated sadly, waving the smoking body as if it it was a fly. "But this I need to know. I've always thought we've had a good time whenever we've been paired up… but maybe... maybe it's just been me. Maybe I've been wrong from the start..."

"No - This… this has been good. Fun." Sabine interrupted with an awkward, confused stutter.

Ezra deflated, shoulders sagging along with his hands, even more confused.

"All of it?" He asked tiredly.

"Yeah… I mean... Karabast, Ezra…"

"You have me _so_ fried right now... then why the heck are you so hostile?!" The padawan groaned.

"Look, you're probably the chillest Spectre to work with… besides Chopper. Zeb is all business, Hera is reasonable, and Kanan is… well, stifling. You know. They're great, but they're stressful at times. But it's always something… fresh with you. You let me do my stuff without any sort of pressure. "

As Ezra smiled with a bit of humorous pride, despite his confusion, while Sabine struggled in thought, trying to find the words to build up their common ground. It felt as though the fight had also helped her find her breath, because she continued talking.

"Sometimes it's just… I… I think you're conning me as well." The warrior face turned and glanced at the ground, avoiding her friend's eyes. "That you treat me as just another hapless fool to trick and smooth-talk around… because let's face it - you're pretty gifted at that, Ezra."

Ezra took the time to clip the lightsaber back onto his belt, then put his hands on his hips, staring into the blue and trying to find footing on the common ground.

"Wow. Uh. So... you don't trust me?"

"No! No. I do trust you - I just…" Sabine stumbled, looking up with wide eyes, fearful of what Ezra had said, and what she as about to say. "You know me. The pessimist. It's just… How you act, all relaxed and at ease… It's great. Wonderful... but then I start to think it's all too good to be true."

The words left Sabine speechless and struggling to explain the words to herself, trying to process what she had just barely managed to say. But Ezra heard her, and he understood. He could remember his trial in the Jedi temple deep within Lothal's endless fields - how The Force tried to delude him and torment him with contorted and cruel imitations of his friends.

"When I first joined you guys, I felt the same way. That it was an act - that in your heads you thought of me as a burden. That the way you treated me wasn't as friendly and welcoming as I thought it was - that I was playing the fool. I know how you feel. But... I have nothing but respect for you. I'd never, never think of you that way… and I know I don't show that enough. More often than not, I act… I _do_ take you and the rest of the team for granted. Hey, look at me."

She did and he smiled in a comforting way, the way his mom used to when they were about to start one of their broadcasts: Sincere, tender and truthful.

"With Zeb, I get all competitive. With Hera, I have to take the back seat… With Kanan, all I hear are lectures. They're all wonderful, obviously… but with you? Even when I'm messing it up, it's a blast. You're a fantastic person, warrior, artist - I would never undermine you. I'm sorry for all of this. I was just worried that I got… that I got too carried away with what we have."

Sabine stood there, frozen at first but her mouth slowly turning to a relieved smile - a genuine one. She even reached across with one hand and grasped him by the shoulder, squeezing gently, like her father did when she achieved a personal best, or presented him with a new disaster of color: Gentle, proud and reassuring.

"Thanks, Ezra. I'm sorry that I let my cynicism run rampant... I ought to trust you more than this."

Ezra made a motion to return the gesture, but Sabine was already moving past him, her hand trailing down his arm, giving a firm squeeze on his forearm before dropping off completely. He turned to follow her lead, as she took the Inquisitor's lightsaber away from the unconscious hunter.

"So." Sabine began.

"So... Woah!" Ezra motioned as he rushed to get between Sabine and the helpless Inquisitor. The Mandalorian had her darksaber activated and was looking at him quizzically.

"Uh, Ezra…? She's got to go."

"She's unarmed and unable to defend herself. Nope, nope, nope!" Ezra announced as he cleared his throat. "Nuh-uh. Not how we do things."

"How we do things?! You've killed like how many snowmen?" Sabine grumbled lightheartedly, deactivating her darksaber and taking a casual stance.

"It's different here, Sabine. Completely helpless! We'd be just like them if we were to kill like that. And sure, it's the Jedi way, but I'm pretty sure Mandalorian customs don't smile on killing an unconscious opponent. You spared Saxon, remember? "

"Hold up, you're going to lecture _me_ on Mandalorian customs?" Sabine asked, a smirk forming on her face.

"Uhhh… No, no I'm not! I'm just… asking you what you'd think… about what Mandalorian culture would think." Ezra offered hopefully, quickly thinking through the sentence.

"Saxon is nothing like these people. This dark-sider is a massive danger to our mission now." Sabine argued, presenting the Inquisitor's lightsaber. "Leave her and our cover is blown and all of that information we've gathered becomes irrelevant."

"Not necess-" Ezra started before remembering Sabine had used her Darksaber. "Ok, ok. The darksaber is pretty recognizable... Yes... but they don't know what we were doing. They don't have a trail, they have no idea where we were, what we've found out. They're not going to change their massive imperial plans for a 'possible' leak... and we can take her weapon and she'd be toothless."

"There are more Inquisitors, aren't there? What if she calls them in? What if she brings the entire Imperial garrison down on us. The entire city - alerts the fleet and its Interdictor Cruisers! And on top of that, you stand out to them through the blasted force, like a Bantha on the beach."

"Those who rely on the dark side are arrogant and chock full of pride. They won't report to the Imperial authorities - they'll just go to Vader. And there is _no_ way she'd think like Thrawn, Sabine. I can buy us time and obscure ourselves, and by the time she realizes we're in orbit we'll be making the jump to hyperspace."

She sighed. Ezra deflated a bit, speaking up just one more time.

"Listen, I know it's a risk. But it's for the best."

It took a moment, but after that Sabine was in agreement, thinking hard about how to best work under these new circumstances.

"Well… we can't take the saber - I'd bet it has a tracker on it. How shall we break it?"

Ezra thought for a moment before having a surge of genius. He flipped out the fusion cutter and chucked it at Sabine.

"How about something more… creative?"

His comrade weighed the tool on her hands and then activated it, the sparks almost as bright as her face. She loved his moments of genius, and how they always seemed to include her in the fun.

* * *

She screamed awake, gasping against the lump of iron stuck in her throat. As she convulsed and writhed on the ground, the metal shard vanished, letting hot Torun air fill her lungs and veins.

A dark comrade stood above her, clad in apathetic grey, saber dormant in his hand. Ninth Brother. She recovered quickly, wheezing and spitting and growling with paranoia. The man didn't deserve to see a moment of weakness from her, and yet he had a good minute of it.

"Any nightmares, miss?" Ninth Brother asked cruelly, reveling in the sinister joy of force choking her out from slumber: consciousness through asphyxiation. A monstrous freak, this Inquisitor: You could see it in the jagged orange cracks that seemed to fracture his irises.

"My weapon." The Sister hissed, her clawed hand darting out.

"Well, tell me about your Jedi friend… it was a Jedi, no? Otherwise you'd be dead, Third Sister." The man began with a chuckle.

"Two rebels." The recovering Inquisitor shouted in anger, fighting the lethargy and weakness and temptation to lean on the walls of the alley. "One wielded the darksaber, the other a green lighstaber. Sabine Wren, Ezra Bridger. Caught me unawares: how else did you think I lost?!"

"Ah…" The man intoned, mystified and very interested. "The famous Ghost Squadron. Shall we inform Lord Vader? Bring in our superiors?"

"Not yet… not yet." The sister hissed, even though her opinion was subordinate to his. "Time is of the essence - they may slip out of reach if we do not pursue."

"We, as in the Grand Inquisitor and I." The man demurred. "You lack a saber, dear."

"I have a tracker in my saber: if they took it, it will lead us right to them!"

The man shook his head and pointed behind her. She followed his finger to the wall and froze in fury.

Her lightsaber looked down on the pair, high up on the wall and tightly melted into the metal wall. On each side two cartoonish faces smiled and laughed: one Lothcat and one Kyuzo. Large cartoonish letters in Galactic Basic presented a taunt:

Inquisitors drool! Go back to Sith School, or keep playing the fool!

"You have to admit…" The Ninth brother began. "It's pretty amusing, purposefully acting juvenile in order to-"

" _ **AARRRGGH** **!**_ "

The secured lightsaber quivered as The Force tore at it's metallic bindings to the point where the entire wall seemed to vibrate with instability and strain. The next second, the lightsaber activated and blasted off from the wall, twisting and tumbling down into the outstretched hand of the seething Inquisitor. Metal shrapnel and flakes fluttered and clattered down around them.

Ninth Brother watched the display dispassionately, but when his comrade turn to him with eyes of fire, he nodded with a hint of respect.

"...Well done. Looks like we needn't wait for our masters to come down from Orbit... Yet. Lead on, Sister. I have speeders around the corner."

Third Sister grimaced as she sheathed her lightsaber and began to walk out of the alleyway, determined to upend the haughty bastard's elitism... No, not determined.

Certain.

* * *

End Chapter


	5. The Rebel Element

.

Chapter 5

The Rebel Element

* * *

Everything was smoother when they reached an understanding. Balance was everything to Ezra's understanding of The Force, and as it turned out, balance was just as crucial to their relationship. Ezra pushed, and Sabine would shove back, small little displays of competitive comradery, instinctive reciprocation between two friends. The feeling of renewed cohesion gave Ezra a rush that wasn't comparable - a sense of plain invincibility: Everything came naturally, as casual as walking, yet as enlivening as any novelty.

He performed a mind-trick on two guards simultaneously, held a turbolift in place so they could get on board. She conned her way through the security booth before the docks, managed to swipe the overseer's keycard and datatapes. The laughed about their exploits as they moved onwards, boasting about their abilities while surpassing their limits. Sabine wasn't a street-wise con artist, and Ezra wasn't a Jedi master, but when they were this comfortable with each other it didn't seem to matter.

In essence, they were a team, a mutual partnership that achieved things that no individual could do on it's own. And they loved it.

"Bet two hours of weapons maintenance that they're like the Iron Squadron." Sabine dared Ezra as they passed through Bay 90.

"In this environment? No way. I'm thinking they'll turn out like Rex and his clone crew - rugged and isolated and a bit crazy."

"So… it's a bet?" Sabine prodded.

"Why not?" Ezra agreed as he swiped the stolen keycard into a reader, opening the doorway before dramatically presenting the way forward, so Sabine could take the lead with a convincing impression of a countess.

93\. 95… Bay 97. The hanger was quite bland and uninspired, save for an office cut into the steel wall, a vending desk with an large, grimy and dimly lit sign overhead:

Daw's Duracrete

A rodian female was busy watching the flies on the ceiling, it seemed. Sabine had all but rested her hands on the counter before the lady recognized the two customers.

"Hmmm... Happy Pyytt Festival. Welcome to Daw's Duracrete, the best Duracete Distributor in the Docks. May I take your order?"

The boredom and apathy was incredible: Ezra had never come across anything like it. Sabine just leaned forward, full of herself and doing her best loth-rat impression.

"Of course! Me and my familiar here are interested in some of your Duracete - got any Carbonite-rich mixes? Heater needs some fixing."

"Carbonite is our specialty, ma'm." Was the laconic reply, as the Rodian was seemingly unaware of the title of the shop she vended for.

"Well." Sabine continued. "It's a pretty tricky fix: Crack in the exhaust port - he says that we just need some carbonite glue."

The Rodian looked lazily at Ezra when Sabine jabbed a thumb his way.

"Hmmm... Not recommended. The metal likes to expand with the heat - carbonite glue wouldn't expand along with it."

"Right." Sabine agreed as she turned her head to admonish Ezra. "See? I told you: It's best to replace the _entire piping_. My mother always told me things were 'Strongest as one.' "

Ezra smiled despite the awkward delivery of the phrase: he had expected something more… convincing. Then suddenly, a disturbing idea:

 _Is this what it's like, watching **me** swindle?_

While Ezra struggled with this crushing realization and his newfound respect for Sabine and the rest of the Ghost Crew, the Rodian appeared unaffected, returning Sabine's gaze.

"We have a grand assortment of pipes for you to choose from, if you'd follow me…"

The Rodian unlocked the gate to the office and motioned to the doorway behind her. Sabine hopped into the stall, with Ezra slowly tailing the two.

* * *

The door took them to a mechanics garage, choked full of metal inventory and a surprising number of GNK droids that sat idle by the wall. Despite the number of objects that filled the room, there was order to it - large shelves carried various shapes of chromium and carbonite - pipes, slabs, foils and even large blocks of raw ore.

"Wallox! Tapdal! We have guests."

"Nice place you have here!" Ezra remarked, coming to a stop behind Sabine.

"It does it's job. Now to business…" The Rodian remarked as she began to hoist two pipes off of one of the massive racks of materials. But for some strange reason, when she turned around she wasn't carrying the expected item. A bright translucent field sparked into existence around the pair, as Sabine reached for her blaster pistols.

"Ray shields: it's pointless" Ezra moaned, grabbing Sabine's arm before she could wrap them around her Mandalorian pistols. He looked up at the Rodian and the blaster rifle she was carrying. "Please, don't activate the stunner!"

"Of course I'm not activating the kriffin' stunner. I want my suspects talking." The Rodian growled, as two figures appeared behind her. "So, start talking - who sent you?"

"Is that a Dug!?" Ezra whispered excitedly to Sabine: an inverted bipedal creature was clambering on one of the shelves, holding a pistol.

"Yes, and that's a Nemodian." Sabine muttered, eyeing a bulky greenskinned warrior sporting a modified Z-6 rotary blaster cannon, with what seemed to be a grenade launcher fixed into the center rotary space.

"Thought they were wimpy. Rex always said they were cow-" Ezra whispered before Sabine jabbed in in his stomach. "...Ow."

"We're from Phoenix Squadron." Sabine announced. "We had information that there was a Rebel cell around here."

"Phoenix Squadron? Ha! You're from Ore-Duke Lastar, you mean. We fed him that codeword, knowing he'd send spies our way. "

"Well, you guys haven't been the easiest to find." Ezra responded. "We contacted Lastar just to get to you."

"If you haven't noticed: we don't want to be found." The Nemodian explained cooly. "You came here for the money. How much did he pay you to try and infiltrate our ranks? If you want to line your pockets and keep on living, I suggest you answer our questions."

"We're rebels - honest!" Ezra complained, but none of their compatriots were buying it. Sabine glanced at the room for any answers to their current dilemma.

"Listen, kid - if you think that we aren't afraid of dropping some corpses into the Celsius Sea, you'd be wrong on at least… four-... fifteen different accounts." The Dug spoke up in a rugged Galactic Basic - recollecting the instances in his head as he spoke.

"What is Lastar planning?" The Rodian continued, voice dripping with threat.

"No idea! But he does know that you use this location." Ezra answered squeamishly. "We're on your side, seriously!"

"Yeah, yeah, and I'm Jabba the Hutt. Now-"

"It's a _loooong_ way to Alderaan."

Everyone blinked and looked to Sabine, who had her hands up and a hopeful grin on her face.

"What?" Ezra asked with an incredulous look, struggling to understand Sabine's madness. But his confusion quickly evaporated when the GNK droids powered up, one after another, nodding and moving forward with excitement.

"The code-phrase." The Rodian muttered quietly, lowering her rifle, with the others showing doubt. "Wallox - release them!"

"You sure?" The Dug muttered, producing a remote from one of his pockets.

" _Yes_. That codephrase is about two cycles old - sent with GN-4SH on that intelligence mission. There is no way Lastar knows about that."

The Dug nodded and pressed the button, disengaging the Ray shield. The Rodian tossed her rifle to the Nemodian known as Tapdal, and approached the two with open arms.

"So Gnash did make it to the other side! You met him?"

"We… we actually received him." Ezra responded, catching up and connecting the dots. "On Garel."

"Stars above." Tapdal exclaimed as he set his Z-6 on a crate and approaching with Wallox. "The blasted droid made it! Boy, you folks chose the perfect time to drop in. We've been on lock for days with this Lastar nonsense."

"We're sorry we gave you the scare, honest. We were doing an operation based on your intelligence and tried to find you - stumbling into Lastar led us here."

"Damn miracle he didn't do anything else to you..." The Rodian announced as she pointed out the rest of her friends. "The rest of the crew is out at the moment, though I could stay for ages introducing you to all of our GNK droids."

"I'm surprised to see off-worlders here." Sabine said respectfully. "All we've seemed to run into are humans."

"Shu-Torun's a pretty bland place, and considering the Imperial's grip over the planet - You only really find outworlders in the starports." A voice behind them explained. The turned around to see an all too familiar… mask.

"You!" Ezra exclaimed, recognizing the gang leader, still flanked by two of his comrades.

"You." The man responded. "I was just about to fill you in, Vellu - I take it they're the real deal?"

One of the GNK droids squeeked and honked in response as the two grunts walked over and attended to them - one hopping up to sit on one while the other began to check it's diagnostics.

"Members of the one and only Phoenix Squadron." The seated lady began, with an air of reverence. "Who would've thunk it."

"My name's Sabine, and this here is Ezra. Your ass-grabbing friend is a piece of bantha crap." Sabine began formally, trying to ignore the fascination of the gathered rebels and addressing the Cutter-gang Leader directly.

"Uh… Yeah, Balt's not the greatest person... sorry, formalities. We've heard of you, but have you guys heard of us?" The working rebel said in place of his leader, as he stepped up from the GNK droid and took of his circular mask, revealing ash hair and indigo eyes.

"Sorry, nothing except for Gnash. You've made enough noise for the rest of our cells to hear, though." Sabine responded.

"This is Tapdal - our explosives expert, Wallox the tinkerer and pilot - I'm Vellu, the mechanic and weapons expert." The Rodian announced. "That's Sautar, Moly and Brass. They're recon, planning, and whatever we need them to be."

The leader known as Brass took off his metal guise, as well as the female known as Moly. Ezra and Sabine followed suit as the group came close to shake hands and formalities. During all of the chaos and friendliness, Ezra presented Vellu with a data-disk.

"This has a map of hyperspace points and the corresponding Rebel frequencies… Oh! And this transceiver is already set to these frequencies: Use it to be less of a stranger, alright? If you're ever feeling cramped planetside..."

"Don't we know it."

"...Then fly on up. We all have your back, just like you have ours."

"So what's the situation?" Sabine announced. "We have about two hours to burn - we'd love to help with this Lastar problem."

"You might. The crink is an underworld addict." Vellu began, leaning on a crate as she began a briefing. "Answers straight to the Hutts, I'm certain. Acts as some sort of representative for smugglers, collecting bounties and tithes for the Tatooine palace. For a while, we just assumed we could do some harmless business, snag some imperial information… but his information has begun to get… questionable. We're beginning to expect that he is getting involved in Shu-Torun's politics."

"What do you mean?"

"We have the king, who is getting pretty tired of the Empire… Then we have Rubix." Brass explained quietly. "He's a power hungry Bantha-shagger who is trying to use our people's growing dissent as a reason to usurp the throne. Pretty sure that Lastar is also riding the Rebel-friendly sentiment, but they aren't believers. They want to use us for their own purposes..."

"And then they'd go after you just as soon as the Empire's out of the way." Sabine muttered, finishing the train of thought and making some of the rebels frown in indignation.

"Exactly." Moly announced passionately. "We've done good work here in Shu-Torun - the populace does sympathize with us. We could have the entire world in an all out rebellion in a couple cycles… but the Lastar, Rubix and the other Ore-Dukes might pitch our people against one another in some skrogging power struggle. You said it yourself, Ezra Bridger: We're strongest as one."

"So you heard it." Ezra responded with a bit of a blush, hand on his neck, nervous with the admiration. "I didn't realize the transmission went so far."

"We're not just for Shu-Torun, mind you - the message you sent reminded us that it's not just about one planet." Saulter explained, his voice brave but hinting towards a sad history. "But still... We've had the most experience with these streets, with us three… There is a lot of history. Lastar, Rubix… these people aren't rebels, and they'll tear the planet apart. We don't want to leave this place broken."

Ezra nodded, understanding the sentiment that clung to the three young Toruns.

"So what's the plan: If there is a time for an operation, isn't the Pyytt Festival the best opportunity?"

"With your help, we still might be able to make it work." Wallox said, opening his hands to help articulate his words. "Lastar has a customs booth that serves as his hub of business communications. If we can snag some info, or even plant a bug…"

"We do have parts of a mouse-droid outfitted with a mic." Sabine offered, as Ezra pulled out the parts from his clothes. "We don't need the droid portion anymore, but the microphone could serve as your listening device."

"Why the droid?"

"There was a conference in the Imperial Academy that we broke into: The mouse droid was supposed to be part of the plan, but we had to work without it." Ezra explained, drawing surprised looks from the crew.

"So you heard our info and infiltrated the Academy?" Wallox nodded, encouraged by the news. "If you two pulled that off, you'll definitely make this Op work."

"Well… Slight problem." Sabine muttered, looking at Ezra. "We might have some company on our heels. We have to keep moving - so we have to split up right after the operation so that they don't get a wiff of you."

"Then you'll be the bait. GN-0M3, show'em the plan." Vellu announced, pointing to the nearest GNK droid. A small city layout was presented, with a few key areas highlighted yellow and red.

"The Red is Lastar's building. We could easily crack it on our own... but Imperial troops have begun to consolidate government and economic offices: there are now checkpoints, some mobile turrets… Too many eyes and too much firepower to risk it. But just down the road…"

The map focused in on the yellow object, a large pillar-connecting bridge.

"... we have a multipurpose city link. You've got generators, you've got patrols, you've got roadblocks, the whole shabang. More importantly, there is an Imperial officer on site. Hit that place hard, and he'll call for reinforcements - the guards at the customs office are the closest installment of troopers. You can run pretty much anywhere from that point on - All Wallox needs is a vent and we'll be out in five."

"So 10 minutes of combat." Sabine muttered. "You have something fast?"

"Only the best in CIS engineering." Tapdal chuckled, walking to the far side of the garage and pulling away a tarp to reveal the speeder-bike beneath. "Combat Speeder - laser cannons, forward rocket pod, super-charged turbine - the speed and the offensive capabilities you need to take out some AT-DPs."

Sabine gave it one short glance at the transport and it's explosive munitions it carried before looking to Ezra, daring him to argue.

"I have the wheel."

* * *

Ezra walked the cluttered streets alone, but with a spring in his step. He was almost waving to nearly every bloody person who caught his eye behind his mask, happy to blend into the night-life and move along with this mission. After so long, a heist! An heist that included bucketheads! After all of those missions working undercover and attempting to evade the Empire's attention, it was nice to be on the offensive once again, using the classic guerilla warfare tactics. It was something straight out of their playbook back on Lothal:

"This is the same sort of stuff you guys pulled off when we first met, you know that?" He whispered casually, as some 614-AvA speeders and the newer 74-Z models began to stand out from the masses, signifying the start of the checkpoint.

"Really? Remind me."

"Well - explosives on a speeder to draw the attention, then strike at the objective. You guys almost got away with the entire catch."

"Oh stars, I remember that. Don't tell me you still consider that box yours: You turned it over, remember?" Sabine laughed in his ear, their earpieces still functioning.

Ezra smiled as he casually slipped one of Sabine's magnetized presents onto the engine of a AvA.

"Well, I was generous enough to donate to the cause." Ezra replied, enjoying her exaggerated scoff echo in response. "How's the speeder feel?"

"I feel like I'm the great General Grievous, but without the extra limbs: This thing's fast but damn hard to steer. What's the scene like?"

Ezra took in the scene, looking out to the many-layered city that spread out before him, and the highway that stretched out towards it, begging him to lose himself in the enormity of the metropolis. But standing to each side of the entrance were two AT-DPs and a couple of machine gun installations hidden behind roadblocks, with stormtroopers mulling around parked speeders. An Ubrikkian Industry Troop Transport served as the command post, a good distance away from the bridge's entrance, but positioned that it could quickly barr the way of any vehicle attempting to escape.

"2 AT-DPs, some guns, a whole bunch of speeders. One transport vehicle which I bet has our officer. I just attached a parcel to a speeder in their forward position - you ready?"

"Ready to move into striking range as soon as you make that sweet, sweet music."

Ezra nodded and made his way to the main barricade, the detonator charge in his pocket - once this explosive was primed and a magnetic connection was established, the countdown would begin for both explosives. He took his time strolling by the barricade, looking as harmless as a Dokma and twice as unnoticable. He palmed the sabocharge in a fluid motion, and then latched it onto a idling 74-Z speederbike as he walked towards the inspection point. He could hear the clocks activate, and the deceptively shrill beeping sound off as the countdown began.

"Hello gents! A good night for a festival, right?!"

The dullards in their manicheistic helmets just stared down at him, then to one another in confusion - surprised that a civilian would strike up a conversation with the Empire's enforcers.

"Uh, well, it's about to get a _lot_ worse for you... Sorry!" Ezra apologized in the nick of time, as the first explosion rocked the platform, a echoing noise that disoriented everyone except Ezra, who stomped on the first stormtrooper's shin while grappling and robbing the second trooper of his E-11, shooting him at point blank range with the rifle's stun function. By the time the second explosive blew, he had already taken out one of the troopers operating a repeater turret.

Stormtroopers all around the checkpoint turned to and fro, trying to understand where the attack had come from, only a couple realizing that the rebel was already at the center of their outpost. Civilians shrunk back and watched from the shadows and their metallic balconies and alcoves, while Ezra tried to give them a spectacle to watch, firing from target to target with The Force steadying his aim. The two AT-DPs were the quickest to recognize Ezra's presence, but their massive frames and mobile guns were slow to respond. By the time they had focused onto the Rebel's figure, he had already taken out around seven more troopers, and it was too late. Rockets streaked across the bridge, some haphazardly ducking under the bridge and others flying far above, but one connected with the leg of an AT-DP, blowing the joint off, just as another munition clipped the head of the sibling walker, disabling it momentarily. Ezra himself had to duck underneath a haywire rocket, as it spun inwards and detonated on the level itself, knocking some Imperial troops back with concussive force.

"Phew - Hellfire missiles are _no joke_!" Ezra exclaimed with a tinge of terror, spying Sabine's speeder traveling around the circumference of the city platform, running perpendicular to the bridge. When their distraction had run it's course, she would just speed by and he'd leap on - outrunning and outpacing the Imperials through the streets and alleyways of the starport. He bolted towards the repeater turret, focusing on the next squad of troopers that had recognized his presence.

"Then don't give me a reason to use them again!" Sabine echoed in his ear, her voice jubilant as she enjoyed the colors. "You think they've called for that backup by now?"

Ezra grinned as he tightened his hands around the steering mechanism for the blaster turret, turning it from patch of troopers to the other, making sure not to send any bolts of energy wide and into the crowds of people. Spying a thermal detonator in flight, he ducked a number of blaster shots and began to run down the makeshift barricades to keep their aim off and avoid the explosion.

"It's only been three seconds!" Ezra remarked as the repeater turret was blown away by flames and noise. "Give the poor Imps at least five!"

* * *

Ninth Brother felt the explosion before he heard it. He knew where it was before the officer's voice screamed out from the transceiver with a frantic plea for reinforcements. Most importantly, he could tell the padawan was the culprit before the officer began to describe the profile of the assailant. A sidelong glance to his companion was enough to deliver the information, and they both veered off of the speedway, skimming over the rooftops and straight towards their target.

The Inquisitor squinted at the rapidly approaching bridge, feeling the wind whistle outside his helmet. He could discern the small glow of explosions and even the faint flicker of laser fire, his eyes trying to pick out Ezra Bridger from the distance. The activity helped pass the time and whip up his adrenaline: two minutes and the padawan would be in for much more than just blaster fire.

* * *

Hand resting on the ignition key of the dented and aged V-35 Courier, Tapdal watched casually from the alleyway as Storm Troopers rushed by, quick to report to the explosions that had echoed through the streets just one minute prior.

"Man, they _are_ good." He muttered as he folded a leg and took in the stampede of uniforms. "You guys getting to the objective?"

"Obviously." Saultar responded through the transceiver that the Nemodian carried with his free hand. " Wallox is going up the wall - We'll be out in a blink."

Tapdal looked up to the sky as two speeders rocketed overhead, a blur of dark metal and soot-wearing warriors. A concerned frown soured on the Nemodian's face as troop transports flew over him a few seconds later.

"Make it a quick sortie, please. I think the reinforcements got serious for once." Tapdal announced, meddling with his transceiver to broadcast to his new friends "Sabine, it would be a good time to leave."

* * *

"Oh boy, they sure are mad!" Ezra growled as he surveyed the chaos and laser fire around him. He was calmly weaving beneath the prancing legs of the wounded AT-DP, which was vainly trying to get a lock on the Jedi _and_ stop serving as Ezra's temporary cover. Ezra wasn't very concerned about the snowmen or their metal toys, he was intently focused on the speeders that were approaching from the city - two of them, no doubt Inquisitors. He grew worried for the Rebel cell as the troop transports came into view, but with luck they flew over Lastar's office and continued to move towards the bridge as well.

"Sabine, I really hope the speeder is as fast as you say." Ezra yelped into his microphone, moving to the right to hide behind an AT-DP leg and dodge more laser fire.

"I take it the Inquisitor is back? The rebel cell just told me to split." Sabine responded.

"Yeah, she's here with a friend and two transports." Ezra affirmed. "You have your secret weapon with you, right?"

"You mean _our_ secret weapon?"

"No, _your_ secret weapon. I was just the test dummy." Ezra reiterated as he sprinted spun around to avoid the crushing foot of the metal walker: "So you do have it?"

"Naturally."

"Good." Ezra muttered, too quiet for Sabine to hear. He hoped it wouldn't come to that, but if what he feared came to be, at least Sabine was ready and would have a fighting chance. The checkpoint was starting to become orderly again as the Imperial forces began to collect themselves and reclaim the smoldering wreckage of their checkpoint. Ezra backed away down the bridge, where on the other side a set of ATs began to advance, cutting away one possible escape route.

"Uh... Alright Sabine… anytime you're ready!"

"Second silo on it's way!"

"Woah… WOAH!" Ezra screamed as the rockets bathed the skirmish once again. "I meant pick up! Pick up: Not blow up!"

"Use your eyes and hop on then!"

Ezra grit his teeth and ran through the drifting rubble, looking through the dust and scorch as he saw Sabine's speeder racing towards the scene, with no sign of stopping. Ducking one last laser bolt, Spectre 6 leapt forward, slinging his arm through Sabine's waist as the rebel shot through the battlefield. Pulling forward, he planted his feet on the metal platform and righted himself, still holding fast to Sabine in order to not interfere with her driving. The explosions continued behind them, disorienting and terrifying enough to keep the stormtroopers preoccupied and buy a couple minutes for their rebel friends.

"You steady?" Sabine's voice rang in Ezra's ears.

"Yeah." Ezra began, looking back to see two speeders falling into their wake, with dark-clothed warriors at the helm. "But we have company!"

Laser fire began to streak past their vehicle, prompting Sabine to slowly weave their flight pattern to throw off the aim of their pursuers.

"Time to put that lightsaber to use, Spectre 6!"

"Yeah, I'm on it!" Ezra agreed, letting go of her his right hand but holding fast with his left, he twisted around to face the Inquisitors, bringing out his lightsaber and putting it in the path of the laser bolts. He put extra effort into protecting the exposed turbines, but with two steady and rather accurate sources of laserfire - he wouldn't be able to hold up for long, and their speeders were closing the distance.

"Shab it, Ezra. Just hang on - I'm going to lose them in the streets!"

Ezra decided against following her command and continued to deflect, wincing when Sabine took a sharp turn through an alleyway. Hooligans ducked underneath them and threw themselves to the corners of the streets as the Imperials followed, not wasting charge on their blasters. Ezra grinned and leaned out into the air current as Sabine pulled off another risky turn, swooping high on the apartment walls before leveling out on a stable hover.

Ezra took a glance ahead to spot any environmental hazards he could use to throw off the hunters, but the steel landscape of the Shu-Torun spires didn't have many loose objects like the more organic streets that existed in Lothal's capital. The speed at which Sabine weaved and jetted through the streets and alleyways wasn't helping matters, especially since it only kept the Inquisitors at bay. They'd run out of time eventually - they needed a way to shake them.

"They aren't lost, Sabine!"

"No chit!" Sabine snapped back angrily, leaning into another turn as a salvo of lasers flew past them. "We're going to the starport!"

"And bring Lando into this mess? Sabine, if they think we're running offworld they'll notify the ships in orbit."

"Trust me!"

Ezra laughed into the breeze, too engrossed in the rush to care, too confident in Sabine's logic to worry.

"Not like I have a choice!"

The steel structures flashed by them in a blur, larger and more industrialized as they approached the starport structure. The large, curved entrance allowed large freighter hovercraft to move out with supplies and goods, but also gave Sabine a large amount of room to maneuver and enter the port without any Imperial troops getting an easy shot.

"Alright, get ready to ditch!"

"Ditch?!"

"On three!"

Ezra gave one last look back at the warriors behind them, who were confidently closing the distance.

"GO!"

The two rebels leapt forward from the speeder, Sabine using her jetpack to speed ahead while Ezra channeled The Force to fly right behind her. The speeder, without any driver to keep the ignition jammed forward, slowly lost velocity and lingered towards the Inquisitors.

* * *

Ninth Brother frowned, sensing something dangerous as the prey leapt from the speeder. It seemed like a foolish decision, as they would be easily overtaken on foot. _Unless…_

His partner was already breaking, turning her speeder-bike completely perpendicular to her trajectory. The ninth brother mimicked the motion but leapt off of the doomed speeder to get as much distance from the explosion as possible.

The rigged bike exploded moments afterwards, catching the Inquisitor mid-air in a wave of concussive violence. The jolt carried the Imperial at least five meters, dropping him on the hard surface of the port highway.

The warrior recovered quickly, brandishing his lightsaber and taking in the scene. Hazard lights and fire signals flickered on all around him, blast doors raising to contain the burn. Several hover-tankers were caught in the blast, and various creatures and beings were doing their best to perform damage control.

"We're losing them." Third Sister complained, as the last couple inches blast door closed shut, just as the Mandalorian and the Jedi had slid underneath them.

"Lock down the port." Ninth Brother responded angrily, before pulling out his Imperial transceiver to broadcast to the port authority. "Lock down the port! We have runaways in sector 8B, identified as the rebels Ezra Bridger and Sabine Wren."

"Notify the Interdictors." Third Sister interjected as she waited impatiently at his right, eager to continue with the chase.

"And get the fleet involved? Freeze all orbital travel for how long?" Ninth Brother snapped back. "Only when we know they're in a ship, sister. We'll keep the shuttles in the port grounded and catch them trying to commandeer an escape vehicle. We won't burn the barn to catch the mice: We are competent."

His subordinate took the news as neutrally as she could, and Ninth Brother was satisfied by her submission.

"Now focus. The cannot hide from our powers for long."

* * *

The sirens surrounded Ezra as he dashed down the corridor, trying to catch up with Sabine. He knew the layout of the station well enough, and from the signs he could see that they were moving away from the dock Lando was stationed at. He wouldn't waste time on asking Sabine for directions or clarity, however. She had a plan and he was going to stick by it.

The plan led them into a completely different port, where various merchants and swindlers were just reacting to the alarms, moving their goods back into shuttles just as the magnetic locks rose from the port's base and ceilings, pinching craft to the ground. An announcement echoed through the compound, notifying the lockdown and the two suspects on the lamb, but the reaction of the merchants was out of confusion and lethargy - they were not going to interfere and meddle in Imperial matters. Who would?

They closed in on the hanger opening just as stormtroopers entered the compound, highlighted by the blaster fire that began to creep up on the outlaws.

"Grab on!"

Sabine was airborne, hands down and grabbing Ezra by the forearm, bringing him up with her. They streaked out into the open Torun air, rising up to the roof and out of sight of the stormtroopers. They dropped down onto the metallic structure and took a few drags of air.

"Nice thinking." Ezra exhaled.

"Imperial protocol." Sabine explained proudly. "Fire containment methods are pretty handy, huh?"

"Yeah. But they locked down the hangers."

"All according to Imperial procedure. Once some stormtroopers spot us rushing out towards the city…" Sabine said as she gestured out to the metal cityscape that lingered in front of them, still alight with festivities. "They'll let the ships come and go once more. We'll just have to sneak back in and be off before your Inquisitor friends catch wind of our great escape."

"Sounds like a plan." Ezra muttered. "How much time do we have?"

"About an hour."

"Alright, let's get going. Good job with the escape, by the way."

"Thanks. You made some good chaos on the bridge, Spectre 6."

Sharing a quick smile, the two rebels moved forward to drop down to the streets below and finish their mission.

* * *

End Chapter

* * *

End Chapter


	6. Violence

.

Author's Note at the bottom! Hope you enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 6

Violence

* * *

Ninth Brother followed the blaster fire to the hanger, and then continued down Bay 480-C's platform all the way to the hanger's exit, where the two rebels had escaped with the Mandalorian's jetpack. Moving through the ranks of cross-eyed stormtroopers, the Inquisitor kept his eyes glued on the escape route, trying to discern the rebel intentions while a port supervisor and lingering eyewitnesses tried to keep up and catch his attention. The only attention he gave was to the approaching Imperial commander.

"Sir. We have sighted them running away from the port and towards the industrial district."

The Inquisitor grunted and turned away from the enormous, energy-laced hanger door. He turned his eyes to the hapless supervisor:

"Open travel, but deploy patrols to all hangers and entrances. If the insurgents try to enter this port again I want to know the instant it occurs, understood?"

"But sir - what about the fire? We need more manpower to contain and clear the road."

The force-wielder's eyes bore down on the unlucky woman, no shred of empathy or understanding.

"That is your business, and you would rather have us catch the terrorists than allow them to pull another stunt like that once again. If your economy is so dependent on that road, then _someone_ will help you, hm? Go."

The other merchants looked on as the supervisor stumbled backwards, a bit stunned and injured by the Inquisitor's malice. Subdued and stumbling out a broken affirmative, she turned away to return to her post, as the rest of the witnesses melted away and gravitated to their respective workshops.

"I sense them." Third Sister announced as they marched through an automatic doorway, straight towards the dock exit and the last sighting of the runaways. "They're… close."

"Doubtful if we continue linger like this." The leader growled. "The boy's connection is skilled - be careful of his deception."

"What about the Mandalorian, Sabine Wren? Maybe we should focus on ascertaining her presence..."

"She's level-headed and the Jedi is covering her tracks for her: Better to focus on him since he's doing double duty." Ninth Brother spoke over his underlings remarks, as the last set of doors opened to the streets of the city. "Now, move."

* * *

Ezra never did understand why there weren't any patrols or guards on the roof of the port complex - only some measly guard towers and the space traffic control spire, but their shrivelling spotlights were so slow and inefficient at scouring the shadowy terrain.

It was climbing the damn building that put Ezra on the fritz - with each pneumatic howl, he could almost feel the Inquisitors exit the building and take in their surroundings. They were ravenously tearing through the force, trying to grasp his being and pull themselves to him - and he evaded their influence with every exhale. A sense of numbness was starting to tinge at his fingertips, the exhaustion and constant immersion with The Force beginning to affect him in ways he could not predict. He felt like there were strings attached to him, as if he was becoming some sort of puppet, bent to the will of The Force: To any other sensible being, they would react in terror in panic, but Ezra met the unknown with peace and resolve. Whatever this tax was taking on him, he would not give in to senseless fear.

"How are you holding up?"

Sabine gave a confused look, nearly completely obscured in the shadow of a radiator vent.

"Uh, fine? My eyes are a bit dry from the flying, but I'm used to that. You?"

"Right, right. Sorry. It's just been a bit of a weird night, you know?"

Sabine stifled a chuckle, resulting in what sounded like a happy sigh.

"You're not wrong... But the night's over once we drop down into that hanger over there." Sabine reassured as she pointed to the lip of the building. "All good with you?"

"A-Ok."

"Then let's move."

They bided their time for the next spotlight to pass, then melted through the shadows before dropping off the ledge and hanging on with their hands.

"On three?" Ezra muttered quietly.

"Three!" Sabine responded brashly, letting go of the ledge and activating her jetpack. Snagging through his arms, they quietly lowered down the side of the starport, parallel to the hanger bay doors. Finding a foothold, they dropped down and slowly slipped past the atmospheric energy shield, into the hanger. Stormtrooper patrols marched out of sight on the far end of the platform, hundreds of yards away, with an array of strewn boxes and ships serving as effective cover. The intercom system honked out a whole list of bulletins, reminding passengers to avoid and report any fires or signs of damage, as well as report any suspicious Mandalorians or Jedi. Descriptions and all - Ezra took umbrage with his description, convinced he was 'tall', not 'average' like the intercom said.

Lando's YT-1000 was sitting a few hundred yards away, neatly parked in the same spot it first landed in, closer to them than the foot traffic down at the back of the hanger. The two Spectres shared a grin as they began to plot their course.

"Alright! Just a quick run around that Czerka cargo ship and we should have a easy path." Sabine whispered happily.

"Alright - on your call."

It was an easy call, and they casually weaved their way through boxes before arriving at the entrance of the _Hawk_ without any trouble.

Problem was, nobody answered the knock on the cargo door. Ezra shared a confused look with Sabine before banging on it with a bit more vigor.

"What gives?" Sabine grumbled, as she looked around for anyone who may have spotted them. "Someone is bound to notice us on the cameras if we don't hurry."

"I don't get it - why would Lando be away from the ship at this moment?" Ezra grumbled, thinking hard and beginning to lose confidence. "We have just under an hour…"

"Ezra, incoming." Sabine remarked smoothly, drifting away from him to mask their suspicion and greet the approaching person.

"Hey! You two! What are you two doing, trying to enter my shuttle?" The man complained, popping out some audio plugs and definitely not Lando Calrissian.

"Your shuttle?" Sabine responded quizzically. "I'm pretty sure this shuttle belongs to our employer, Lando. I'm sure we're on the same payroll. The name's Rhea-"

"Lando?" The man recoiled with confusion. "Well didn't you get the memo, missy? He sold this craft to me earlier this evening!"

"He… he did? He did..." Sabine stumbled, as the intercom system repeated the description of the insurrectionists. The man caught on to the audio and walked back further as he realized who he was talking to.

"Hey… you, you're the-"

Ezra stepped forward, reaching out towards the man's mind.

"You don't have to panic-"

"GUARDS!" The man yelled, turning to flee from the rebels and already evading Ezra's attempt to pacify him through The Force. Sabine bolted after him, knocking him down and pacifying him in a way that got him to roar out in pain. While Sabine grappled one arm, the man produced a blaster with the other, firing off a loose stunning shot that clipped Ezra in the shoulder. The padawan grimaced as he shook off the electricity, reaching out to Sabine to keep her from completely incapacitating the whistleblower.

His connection stuttered.

* * *

Ninth Brother spun around. Third Sister was already facing the Starport.

"I- I see him!"

"He must have been caught by a patrol." Ninth Brother hissed, furious at the realization that the boy had been deceiving them this entire time. He produced his black transceiver and snarled into the contraption.

"Lock down the port. Seal the hangar doors - find the damn rebels and dispatch your troopers _**now**._ "

They spun their speeders around rushed towards the massive complex that stood just a couple hundred meters away.

* * *

"Where's Lando?" Sabine hissed, shaking the man by his lapels with a knee on his gut. The man coughed and stammered out a response.

"N-no idea!"

"A rat like you definitely knows something." Ezra muttered, waving the man's DL-44 blaster to highlight his point. "What sort of merchant carries a DL-44?"

"Better question, what sort of shoddy smuggler has it _set to stun_?" Sabine growled incredulously, giving another shake to put a bit more fear in his brains. "One that doesn't have anything to fear in these ports. One who works for Lastar."

"Hey! I don't know what you guys are talking about! I did the deal with Lando, he has his money and could be anywhere in the damn capital. If I were you, I'd be more concerned-"

Sabine clocked him across the jaw, looking up in irritation as a warning siren rang out through the compound.

"Chit." She muttered, as stormtroopers returned to the hanger, this time making a beeline towards their location. "Ezra, what's the plan?!"

"Running sounds pretty smart!" Ezra yelled - pointing back towards the hangar exit, as the massive metal doors began to lower and close their only escape route.

Blaster fire flew around them as the two bolted towards the exit, Sabine returning fire whenever she had the chance. Jumping over a number of crates, Ezra tapped into the force and sent them flying towards a cluster of Imperial troops, scattering them over the hangar deck. Tumbling behind another set of crates, Sabine took the time to snipe a couple of troops, covering Ezra's retreat. With enough chaos and damage done to the retreating Imperial forces, the two agents continued their sprint to their escape route.

"So where is the sleemo, Spectre 6?" Sabine shouted impatiently.

"On the planet, I bet!" Ezra replied. "Lando always is a tricksy person, but I gotta admit he's no Hondo. He's got to- LOOK OUT!"

Ezra interrupted his own scream as he barreled into Sabine and forced her to the ground, as a flash of red spun overhead with a sickly strobing echo. He recovered immediately, activating his lightsaber and staring down the threat.

* * *

Ninth Brother caught the returning lightsaber with a smile - enjoying the rush of blood and the promise of victory.

"Ezra Bridger, the boy who survived the ashes of Malachor… Our master knew you'd reveal yourself to us in time."

"And my master thinks your master is a bag of bolts." Was the scoundrel's incredulous response, staring down his opponents with ire as his colleague recovered from her fall and activated her darksaber. Ninth Brother couldn't help but laugh at the scene.

"You know, I could let your friend survive. But after that tedious chase… only to hear you talk all high and mighty and have your friend pull out a saber, thinking she can match us…" The laughter echoed out into the air, fading as it was replaced by a ravishing, excited malevolence.

"…After all of this time and you still retain such naivety!"

* * *

Ezra wasn't quite prepared for such a direct, brutal assault, with the man rushing straight into a saber lunge and transitioning that into a sweep that sparked the metal ground. He parried the first and hopped over the second attack, but by then the Inquisitor had already began to weave other attacks, some incredibly physical, others more technical and deceptive. Ezra wanted to shout out something to Sabine, but it would turn out he would be denied that chance - they would have to figure things out on their own.

The hangar bay doors were closing slowly, and soon their fate would be sealed by three feet of Chromium. Blasting a control panel could sow confusion in the circuits and could potential freeze the hangar doors for a couple minutes...

But they were a bit busy at the moment. As stormtroopers closed the distance and Sabine stuck fighting an Inquisitor, Ezra had to block out the outside fears and focus on the opponent in front of him. With wide and heavy sweeps of the saber staff, Ezra couldn't distinguish what form the Inquisitor was using: the assertive muscle in Djem So, or the reckless abandon of the Seventh Form, Juyo. Ezra spent a few exchanges testing the waters, careful not to catch his blade and always finding more room to escape from the oppressive swipes of the saber-staff. Until he figured out the man's rhythm, he would not waste strength or energy in foolish displays of bravado… although time was not a luxury.

The first real collision occurred when Ezra attempted to use a box as a projectile, throwing it with The Force and forcing the Inquisitor to cut through the container. Taking advantage of the heavy swing, the Jedi caught the warrior as he was recovering, two quick strikes to the face and the man's side - both blocked. The counterattack was easily avoided, but Ezra retreated a step and countered the coming assault with a lunge straight towards the man's face - forcing the man backwards and to spin his saber. The deflection didn't hurt Ezra's stance in the slightest and informed him of the Saber-staff's weakness: the wide and powerful swings could not protect the from quick lunges and precision strikes. Just like how Kanan defeated the Grand Inquisitor aboard Tarkin's Star Destroyer, attacking the hilt was the way to go.

And so Ezra took the offensive, keeping the Inquisitor at saber's length, prodding him like a fencer, and choosing to evade wide swings, not bothering to parry them. Soon enough, his foe was the one being pushed back…

...and when the fury reached a fever pitch, Ezra simply nullified of the eventual Force Push with one of his own, catching the energy in his open palm and deflecting it to his side. Unfortunately, the Inquisitor caught his saber and kept the blades locked, their faces suddenly inches apart.

"Impressive." Vader's lackey spat, angry eyes trying to intimidate, but unable to produce any fear from the loth-rat.

"I _really_ wish I could say the same!" Ezra laughed back, pushing off with his blade and sliding back a ways, his blade already up to dissuade the man's offensive. After all of his training and experience - after evading the capture of Seventh Sister and Fifth Brother, after almost dying to Vader and dealing with Darth Maul…

… it was almost unbelievable, but this opponent wasn't new. Wasn't surprising. Was just another Inquisitor.

And Ezra had seen Inquisitors bleed and die just like the rest.

But discard overconfidence - the Dark Side was a unforgiving equalizer. Ezra would not allow the man's binary style mask his cruel command of The Force, nor would he forget how skilled opponents often lost to shoddy foes. Ezra sighed in irritation as he was forced to parry and duck underneath another flurry of staff twirls, trying to figure out how to defeat this man quickly without getting himself killed in the process. He only hoped Sabine would be able to weather the storm…

* * *

Sabine grit her teeth as she found herself pitted against the insane woman's ferocious offense, so terrifyingly powerful that twice she nearly lost grip of her weapon. It was almost as though her opponent was trying to cleave straight through the Darksaber with her fury, each swing carrying the weight of a bantha, attempting to break the laws of physics. While Ezra jumped and skirted away with the bulky inquisitor, he left Sabine alone to be corralled towards the wall of the hangar.

Despite the danger of the situation Sabine stuck to her Mandalorian roots, falling back on the basic parrying forms that she learned under her mother's wing: diverting the blade, not simply trying to halt its trajectory. Kanan's teachings were more relevant when her blade was caught, allowing Sabine to skillfully escape from the Inquisitor's attempts to disarm her - literally and figuratively. Just because her opponent was more skilled at the saber than she was, her years of training and experience kept the red sword at bay.

Sabine's eyes darted to and fro, watching as Stormtroopers began to form a perimeter but hold their position, unwilling to interfere with the duels taking place. She spied the emergency fire controls just a few meters, at the lip of the hangar's entrance. She focused on her foe's hideous face, biding her time and trying to predict when the hammer would come down...

The sensation came all too quickly: After what felt like moments of combat, Sabine found her breath gone, her heart threatening to burst from her chest, trying to work without air. A single measly attempt to breath did nothing but release a pitiful gasp, as the Inquisitor raised her from the ground. Sabine fought to hold onto her darksaber, sheathing the black blade as she clawed at the invisible hand at her throat, flailing helplessly in the air.

* * *

 _Just like Darth Maul. She wanted to scream, but there was nothing left in her lungs. She kicked tore at the air, trying to rid herself of the curse, to breath oxygen, but nothing seemed to work. The world swam, and for a moment Sabine thought she was going to lose sight of it all._

 _"Ezra, STOP!"_

 _She must have lost vision, because the next moment she was on the ground, gasping and looking up at her friend. He had his arms raised and saber sheathed as Kanan angrily approached him from the crowd, breaking up the fight._

 _"Kanan, I-"_

 _" What were you thinking?"_

 _Sabine felt chilled: something felt sick and horribly wrong in her body. In the dark and freezing, she found Rau and Zeb kneeling to help her up as Ezra defended himself._

 _"It was a spar, Kanan!"_

 _"So we use the Force like that in sparring?!"_

 _"Kanan, she has the Darksaber. Who is to say she doesn't come across an Inquisitor? What happens then, does she just nicely ask them to not use The Force?"_

 _"It won't happen like that. We'll be there."_

 _"Well what if we aren't?" Ezra grumbled back, teeth showing his growing frustration. "You always go on about being prepared - what is so bad about preparing Sabine for their tactics?"_

 _"She doesn't have to go through the real thing!" Kanan growled in response, almost taking off his visor in irritation and disbelief._

 _"Well, Sabine told me to hold nothing back... and she burnt my hair..." Ezra sighed in one last gasp of defiance, though it was already obvious in his voice that he knew he was mistaken. He brought himself into view, out from behind Kanan's figure and knelt down a couple of feet away from her, timid and expecting the worst._

 _"Sorry. Hey, Sabine… Are you alright?"_

 _She coughed as she tried to understand the situation, to figure out how mad she should be._

 _"I'm sorry." Ezra repeated, his face a swirl of guilt, regret and uncertainty. "I should've let go way, way sooner. Uh… Karabast... How many hours do I owe you?"_

 _But in reality, Sabine couldn't manifest any anger - she only felt pain. As she leaned on Zeb to stay upright, and recovered with another deep breath, she made her voice heard._

 _"So that's how Maul fights, huh?"_

 _"Well, fought." Ezra corrected with a timid shrug as he rose up with her, the relief visible on his face. "Look, Kanan, Sabine... I'm sorry: I got carried away with the training. I just thought exposing her to Dark Side tactics could help."_

 _"I don't remember the memo where we classified the Dark Side as a training instrument." Kanan deadpanned._

 _"...Fair enough. But! That way, if she does come across an Sith…"_

 _"Kanan." Sabine began. "I did ask him to fight like an Inquisitor... and I did use my flamethrower on him."_

 _Kanan was incredibly uncomfortable about the idea, but even he could see Ezra's innocence, along with his singed eyebrows. It only seemed to infuriate him - how innocent his Padawan was, but how dangerous this reality could spell for his future as a Jedi. He thought long and hard to reach a fair judgement._

 _"Just because he was provoked by some underhand tactic doesn't allow him to get away with this: The Dark Side is easy to get carried away with, Ezra, it's less like temptation and more like gravity. Just going through the motions is dangerous. You know this."_

 _"I... I do." Ezra admitted quietly._

 _Kanan sighed and took off his mask, rubbing the scar that ran across his eyes._

 _"...These sort of things are only allowed as long as you two agree to it beforehand, and I say it's okay. And - Don't be going overboard and do the whole nine yards! Lift her up, sure, but strangle her?! That's not something I want you to practice."_

 _"Uh… Yeah. Yeah. That was stupid." Ezra admitted, looking down at his shoes while Kanan continued._

 _"And this isn't something that is necessary. Sabine still needs to train on using the Darksaber against multiple opponents: She **may** come across a Inquisitor on her own, but she **will** be using the Darksaber against stormtroopers. We have to remember our priorities - she isn't some Jedi."_

 _Ezra unholstered his DL-44 and used it to give a dorky salute._

 _"Affirmative."_

 _"And when **we** spar, I might just do the same thing. We clear?"_

 _Ezra nodded, humbled and eager to leave this accident behind him, slightly terrified of his master's last term. He practically ran away from the scene, shaking his head as he quietly admonished himself._

* * *

 _She found him meditating on the hill, hands resting on his knees and eyes shut gently. A quiet word didn't rouse him from contemplation, but the moment Sabine came within 5 yards his voice echoed out._

 _"Sabine. Hey."_

 _"Hey, Ezra."_

 _He breathed deeply, rising out of his contemplation but not out of his stance. He turned his head to look back at her, still apprehensive._

 _"I'm still sorry, you know."_

 _"It's… still ok."_

 _"No, not really. I got carried away, and now I think Tristan's going to murder me the next time we go through blaster drills, if Hera or Rau don't get to me first. And don't get me started on what your Mom'll do once she finds out... Or your Dad. Or, **stars above, Chopper**..."_

 _"You shouldn't worry about Tristan." She chuckled, thinking back to her brother's constant concern throughout the day, and his swift criticism of Bridger. "He knows you aren't a Sith. They all do. But no guarantees on Chopper."_

 _Ezra smiled briefly at her joke, and she couldn't help but follow his lead. She never liked him morose and moody - and she would never get used to Ezra Bridger being quiet._

 _"Ugh. I sure did feel like a Sith." Ezra moaned, shoulders sagging as his face fell forward. "I just went ahead and did my own thing without anyone there to keep me in check: The typical Bridger blunder."_

 _"Well…" Sabine announced as she stepped next to him, appreciating the view. "Maybe with all of the blunder out of the way, maybe we can work on this together?"_

 _"Together?"_

 _"Yeah. Some Darksider-be-gone practice. I don't want to be helpless, like the time Maul hijacked the_ Ghost _and made off with the Holocrons. That was the reason behind all of this, right?"_

 _"...Yeah. I had… thought up some ideas of how I could escape from a Force Grip…" Ezra admitted, nodding his head back and forth in admission. "And then I started thinking about how the rest of us could pull it off. One thing led to another… and then I was thinking how you'd be able to incapacitate a force wielder."_

 _"Well I'm surprised that you think I can pull it off... let's hear it."_

 _"Train you? No thanks. I… don't want to do that again." Ezra announced quietly._

 _"I don't expect you to." Sabine affirmed, squatting down to Ezra's level. "We'll figure this out. Together. No more miscommunication, no more harm done. Sound good?"_

 _Despite all of that concentration and focus he had put into meditation, Ezra seemed so much more at peace when he heard her words. Seeing him smile and recover out of his somber state imparted some joy in Sabine, who found herself lucky to have found him out in these hills..._

 _It was a strange sort of joy, where the next hour felt like a momentary, comforting breeze: where they plotted an itinerary together, made the list of the munitions needed to put their theory into practice. Where he offered and she corrected, where she asked and he answered. It was a joy that made the week go by, where the strain of crossing blades with him gave her confidence, where the tedious moments of their project felt like the first brushes to a work of art._

* * *

A wall hit Third Sister. Just as she had pinned the girl to the wall and had begun to constrict her throat with the force, the Mandalorian had pointed her vambrace at point blank range and delivered a sonic shock that blasted the Inquisitor back more than just a couple steps. The disruptive force snapped the warrior's neck in an uncomfortable manner and had broken her concentration, allowing the girl to drop down and reactivate her weapon.

Third Sister whipped her head back to resume the assault, quickly enough to spot the thermal detonators in the air. The momentary discomfort fueled her irritation. Her irritation fueled her fury. The fury fed into the Force: The detonators stopped in mid-air.

"What did you think would happen?" The Imperial acolyte spat as the detonators continued to beep in a countdown, slowly being harmonized through the Inquisitor's use of The Dark Side.

The Mandalorian just shrugged with a deadpan look written on her face. The casual indifference was just another insult to the Inquisitor, who flung the detonators right at the bitch's face and triggered the primers with her strength.

It was not expected, to see the Mandalorian charge forward, right past the explosives as they burst into light. The luminosity of the disguised flash-bangs burned through the retinas of the Inquisitor, forcing her to flinch and cover her eyes, just like the majority of the stormtroopers encircling the battle. The Mandalorian was certainly affected due to her proximity to the ruse, but she was far less debilitated than her opponent. As the blinded Inquisitor spun her saber-staff to try and dissuade any attacks and recover, Sabine caught the rotating blade with the Darksaber in one hand, and in the other fired off a dart right into the Third Sister's collarbone.

The Inquisitor had recovered enough to shrug off Sabine and push her back, reaching to her neck to remove the offensive needle. She stumbled forward, suddenly feeling the lethargy spreading through her muscles. In a surge of anger, the Inquisitor pushed onwards, exchanging a number of blows to drive the Darksaber from Sabine's grip, but the defense proved too dogged. The slurred train of thought began to tax the Inquisitor, and suddenly a laser bolt clipped her shoulder, twisting her around and slowing her assault.

Sabine casually spun her WESTAR blaster before pocketing it as the Inquisitor lurched forward one more step before collapsing in a heap. The Spectre walked over to the Inquisitor, momentarily considering planting the Darksaber in the Imperial's head. The Inquisitor's eyes stared upward, the only muscles not effected by the constrictive toxins that surged through the acolyte's bloodstream. Staring into those hateful, terrorized eyes, Sabine thought of Ezra's plea and sheathed her saber instead, smiling as she left with a parting shot and a collection of smoke grenades.

"There's your answer."

* * *

Ezra had to focus hard not to get caught up in the brutish tempo of his opponent, because of how theatrical the Inquisitor was: When Ezra backflipped over the line of corralling stormtroopers, the man just blasted through his own subordinates, growing increasingly frustrated with Ezra's nimbleness. Just as Ezra resumed a ready stance after another flurry of blows, a bright flash washed over every object in the hangar, briefly painting everything in the sheer white of a supernova... with some splashes of orange and yellow.

Ezra focused through the flash, hoping that Sabine's gambit would prove to be effective. It was a strategy they had worked on - using the disorientation of the flashbangs as the opening for Sabine to get offensive and slip in one of her sleeper darts. After a brief pause and a couple more defensive maneuvers, smoke grenades rained down over the scene, blocking out the stormtroopers and the blood-blade wielding Inquisitor. Ezra sheathed his lightsaber, seeing how the glow could give him away in the haze, just like how the random swings and strikes of the Inquisitor clearly showed his position. Circling around his opponent, he dashed towards the hangar exit, only to think better of the situation and spin around, summoning The Force for one last show of power.

The surge of power blasted everything away - the smoke, the stormtroopers, shipping containers and a dim red light in the smog that Ezra assumed was the Inquisitor. He could see the windows of starships ripple and the tremble of their wings as his energy pushed upon them. Laser fire from further down the hangar seemed to shiver in the wave, and for a moment, it seemed like there were no Imperials nearby. Ezra had momentarily rid the scenery of their blight.

The Lothalian knelt down slowly, enormously drained by the rash maneuver. He could hear Sabine's voice echo in his ear, and in that moment he felt content, relieved that their secret weapon had worked. Laser fire soon sparked up around him as she gripped him by the shoulders, shaking him awake and moving him towards the extremely narrow opening out into the city Shu-Torun. Together they dived away, out to freedom.

* * *

"FIRE! FIRE!" The Inquisitor screamed in confusion, furious that they hadn't been filling the two rebels with lasers minutes earlier. He flailed in dust and smoke, trying to catch the insurgent's lightsaber with his own. With every swing, his frustration grew, until he realized that the Jedi had no intention of continuing or even finishing their duel. The fury grew when he sensed the flux of power behind him, and he turned into the nexus of power head on, tumbling backward and through the air in a wave of energy that rivaled the rigged speederbike.

He flew through the air howling in frustration, recovering as quickly as he could and rushing through the smoke only to see the Jedi stumble out of the narrow opening with his comrade. Ninth Brother nearly laughed at the situation, that the Mandalorian woman was somehow still alive and uninjured despite facing his subordinate. He looked to his right and to his left, as Stormtroopers appeared by his side, firing haplessly at the pair as they slipped through the gap and out into Shu-Torun airspace. He nearly used the force to blast him a path to his limp comrade, who lay motionless on the ground, eyes wide open.

"Get me an electrostaff." The Inquisitor roared out loud, before whipping out his transceiver and kneeling by the pathetic form that was his subordinate.

"Grand Inquisitor." He spoke softly, a whisper for only him and his incompetent bitch of an underling to hear. The transceiver was dead for a moment, and then a voice responded.

"Yes?"

"We have found the _Jedi Knight_ known as Ezra Bridger on the planet, assisted by his comrade Sabine Wren. We had cornered them in at the Sector 9-C spaceport but were unable to subdue them - they have escaped."

"Ah, the Padawan of Malachor… Most interesting, for him to appear at our doorstep without his master."

"We request your assistance: the boy has grown much since his last encounter with our ranks. To complicate matters, apparently our Third Sister cannot manage with the Mandalorian on her own."

He grinned devilishly at the fury that formed in the sedated Inquisitor's eyes: Part hatred, part terror.

"Very peculiar. Very well, I will be there momentarily: Wait for me."

"Understood." Ninth Brother responded, snatching the electrostaff out of the hands of the attending Stormtrooper and planting it firmly in his Sister's abdomen.

"Get up." He hissed as she spasmed and groaned under the surge of electricity. "Get up!"

* * *

End Chapter

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

When plotting out this story and envisioning this inevitable clash, I took into account how Ezra and Kanan fought the Inquisitors in Season 2... and near the end of the Season, it was shown that the pair was actually holding their own and not getting completely slaughtered/outmatched by Vader's Goon Squad.

Looking forward, I see Ezra becoming an even more competent fighter, more so than his Season 2 and Season 3 iterations. So I tried to highlight this in the chapter. If you didn't exactly catch it, I'm sure you'll catch wind of it later on...

As for Sabine's "victory"... Ezra mentioned how unskilled or unmatched opponents can pull out unlikely victories. Sabine's skill is also quite powerful but she's less Jedi and sword-fight inclined, and I tried to remind us of that in this fight.

To whoever is reading this, I hope you're enjoying the story!


	7. Countdown

.

* * *

Chapter 7

Countdown

* * *

"You up? Hey, Ezra… Ezra!"

"Huh? Ye-yeah, I'm up, I'm up!" The Jedi stammered, bolting upright and nearly headbutting Sabine on the way up. Sabine had one arm around his back, pulling him forward and helping him sit forward, while another had retracted from his neck, where it had previously been searching for his pulse.

"Stars, Ezra. For a bit there I thought you weren't breathing - you had just flopped down when we landed."

Ezra took in their surroundings, stuck on a random rooftop in the city, the port looming quietly in the distance. He then focused on Sabine, who he then realized was quite close to him, the warmth of her hand and the detail of her face, still partially obscured by the same slender, artistic mask. It was at that moment he realized how the small lines of color seemed to draw him into her hazel eyes, and the moment he locked eyes with her he found himself too self-conscious to return her gaze.

"Uh…" He grunted as he looked to the side and pulled himself up off the ground and away from this unsettling connection. "Sorry about that, Sabine. I'm alright now. Let's move."

Sabine sighed and as she rose up, pulling Ezra up with her.

"You sure? I'm not too experienced on this "Force Fatigue" business."

"No worries." Ezra grumbled as he quickly broke contact with his partner and hopped in place to get his blood moving. "I'm fine, I'm fine… I just need to play it smart, that's all."

"Then we have a major problem." Sabine joked, her mask failing to mask her enthusiasm.

"Ha, ha. Very funny." Ezra mumbled as he began to move with her, down to the streets below. After setting foot in dark alleyway and blending in with the mulling crowds, Ezra began to realize their predicament.

"So… any leads on Lando?"

"Any leads? I think we're done with that sleemo." Sabine responded casually. "I was thinking about crashing with our new friends again."

"Not with the Inquisitors here." Ezra sighed, glancing at the discussions that were occurring around them, some of them hilariously inebriated beyond comprehension. "No, I'm sure Lando's waiting for us. There must of been something we missed…"

"Like what?"

"I mean - he had a deal with Lastar… maybe we're part of that scheme?"

"Yeah? Well his 'scheme' seems pretty bad, considering we'll be walking around town all night with no idea what to do."

"Lando's tricky - he must have hinted at something…"

Sabine's eyes browsed the walls and the shuttered shops as she simmered in thought. She browsed all of the enterprises, from general stores and their articles of food to the toy shops and all of the toy models on display...

"Well… Wait. Wait!"

Ezra yelped in surprise as she grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him into the shadow of another alleyway. In the darkness, the only thing that was properly illuminated was his friend's face and the communicator she hovered between their faces.

"This is Spectre 5, Scorch 1 do you copy?"

"Scorch 1?" Ezra muttered quietly, earning a quick roll of the eyes from his partner. The transceiver piped for a bit before the response, as the Rodian Rebel know as Vellu spoke back.

"Spectre 5, nice to hear from you! All is well on our end, but we didn't see anything fly into orbit."

"Plan's a'changing, Scorch 1: When you were "fixing up" Lastar's office, did any of your operatives spy any Corellian ships in Lastar's service? Anything in the YT series."

There was a brief pause before the response.

"Let's see… Well, there is his personal ship, a YT-1300."

"That's it. Where is it located?"

"From what my team gathered it's docked at the Space Traffic Control hub, just beyond the Industrial district. Bay 8."

"Fantastic." Sabine responded. "We'll take it from here, Scorch team. Keep in touch."

Ezra wasn't going to have Sabine explain it to him: he had already put the pieces together when she tugged him out of the darkness and into gloomy redlight.

"So that's the 'newer model' Lando was talking about?" Ezra thought out loud. "He makes a deal with Lastar's lackey, loses a YT-1000 and runs off with a YT-1300... It sounds like a pretty good deal… but the details don't add up, though. How could a lackey get the ignition keys to his boss's private ship?"

"Yeah... Maybe he was expecting us to get more information out of that guy at the docks, because even if we knew he was going for Lastar's ship, we wouldn't have any idea where it would be or what Corellian Cargo ship we'd be looking for. A pretty chit Lando plan, if you ask me."

"Sure… but it's a lead. Let's get moving and see if he turns up."

* * *

The landing of _Lambda-class_ Imperial shuttle was uncharacteristically loud and jarring, something that seemed to be intentional. The silence that fell over the hangar as the Grand Inquisitor made her way down the ramp was unnerving even to Third Sister.

It didn't even matter - the slave was already terrified to her core: The Grand Inquisitor was known for her utter intolerance. Serving underneath their masters, the warrior had gone so far as to kill another Inquisitor for what she claimed was 'incompetence' and a 'clear misunderstanding of our objective'.

What in the _galaxy_ was that supposed to mean? How could Inquisitors disagree on their kriffing objective?

Simple: The Grand Inquisitor was _principled_ \- firmly aligned her ideals of efficiency and utter devotion to Lord Vader… but no, it wasn't so simple: The leader had more than just respect for Lord Vader's power. She had respect for what he had brought to the galaxy, she had a code of ethics… something foreign to the Third Sister.

Not much is as frightening as the unknown.

"Well..."

"Grand Inquisitor - My humble apologies for failing to subdue the Jedi." Ninth Brother began. For all of his honey and respect, the apology only elicited a frustrated sigh from their leader.

"Apologies lead to nothing - and regret only goes a bit further... I want you two to understand that the future of our organization is currently under consideration by both Lord Vader and Emperor Palpatine. So, you can understand how failures like these unnerve me."

"A momentary setback!" Third Sister pleaded, trying to make her case. "They still are in the Capital, and with you..."

An outstretched palm was all that was needed to quiet the Inquisitor.

"With me? You should be able to contain these instances _without_ me. There is much villainy in this galaxy, so many people to protect… Peace cannot flourish when I must scour the streets with two of my disciples for every single Jedi."

"It would have been an easy enough task if we had fought the Jedi together… but the Mandalorian bested her." Ninth Brother added quietly.

The Grand Inquisitor was silent for a moment, walking over to the female Inquisitor, inspecting the warrior's fringed clothes and sauter-crusted blade, quietly contemplating words that Third Sister anxiously awaited.

"Of course: Mandalorian fighting is rugged, unpredictable and underhand. Falling victim to an their traps and tricks is not something I'd expect out of warriors your caliber…"

And then she peered at Ninth Brother, with a darkening complexion.

"But _you_ fought Ezra Bridger. The Jedi. The most binary, predictable threat that you are trained to deal with. And _you_ failed. I consider that just as grave an offense."

The fearful Inquisitor lost some of her terror when she saw her comrade swallow with a sickly change in demeanour. The Grand Inquisitor produced her own lightsaber, weighing the hilt and inspecting its appearance, lost in her own thoughts.

"Your failures are damning, but you shall have a chance to rectify them. Take me to the owner of the freighter - wherever the rebels have fled to, he will tell us."

* * *

The Space Control tower was situated in the center of celebration, an awkward situation: a monument of order in control languishing in an Executive district filled with clubs and open dance floors. Various strobe lights and flicker orbs illuminated the district in a strange and disorientating luminescence, with changing colors and blinking lamps almost doing more harm than good. The promenade of neon and rave that led up to the VIP hangars also stretched out into a massive bridge that served to bisect the capital. Shut down due to the revelry, it was now a walkway and open space for the antics of the party population.

Ezra could only imagine what Sabine thought of all of the dancing that was going on around them. He made a snide remark about it when they first entered the frenetic atmosphere, and she just laughed at the prospect of another dance through danger. Progress? Towards what?

They had approached the hub of celebration from the industrial district, and as such didn't have to put up with massive crowds. That soon changed when they passed the first couple of open-air bars and clubs, lost in a sea of blaring music and inebriated partygoers, but the closer they got to the Imperial facility, the more the crowd melted away. Drifting between the clusters of civilians, the pair began to plot their infiltration.

"Pretty light security - it would be a cakewalk if you could pull off a mind trick… How far off are the Inquisitors?"

Ezra let his soul drift a bit, embracing The Force and opening himself to the life residing on Shu-Torun. The tundra that clawed back at his skin made him quickly retreat back into himself. Sabine saw him exhale, his complexion bothered and disheartened by the surge of darkness.

"Not sure, but it's only getting worse. Here's hoping Lando will show… How much fuel do you have on the pack?"

Sabine tilted her head momentarily, recalling the readout she had checked before entering the field.

"17 percent capacity. Not that bad, all things considered… and I still have one more anti-Inquisitor kit."

Ezra shook his head, and Sabine nodded in understanding.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. They'll probably be prepared for it this time..."

"No problem, just think on your feet." Ezra responded casually as he started off towards the standing guard. "And besides, we aren't planning to cross blades with them again."

"Right." Sabine affirmed as she followed Ezra up to the entrance. Smiling sweetly as her Jedi friend meddled with the poor man's mental state, she briefly considered asking Ezra to make the commander imitate a Bantha. With the Inquisitors on their tail... perhaps some other day. But the curiosity got the better of her when they started running down to the Bay 8.

"Could you make one of those Stormtroopers act like a lothcat?"

"What?"

"You know, your Jedi mind tricks. Could you make someone act like that?"

"Mind tricks are influencers, perspective altering tricks, not mind changers. You just make someone 'understand' things that aren't there. But you can't just convince someone that they are a lothcat, that simply doesn't make sense. You're thinking of Force Dominate."

"Force Dominate?"

"You saw me use that on the Walker pilot when we broke out Hondo, remember?"

"Oh…"

Ezra chuckled as he poked the sealed doorway inquisitively, before popping open the control panel and producing his omnitool.

"Haha, yeah. 'Oh' indeed. Wasn't I such a _swell_ guy?"

"Oh _yeah_." Sabine sarcastically affirmed, her voice flat and deadpanned at the memory. "The life of the party. Couldn't get enough of you."

"Nobody could." Ezra laughed as he continued to tinker with the circuits, trying to coax the door to cycle it's door-opening mechanism. "I was such a _charmer_!"

" _Mhm_." Sabine sassed as the door opened. "Well, at least you still have a charm with doors."

"Heh...After you."

The freighter looked massive, thanks to its disk-like shape that reached out over the hangar floor with quiet intimidation. The rebel pair approached the ship from the rear, giving them a good long look at the powerful sublight engines lining the ship's stern. Ezra couldn't help but whistle at the sight and speak out loud.

"Alright. I can see why this is a good haul."

Lando Calrissian answered.

"Good haul? What do you think this is, some sort of _prize_?"

Ezra blinked and looked up, at the figure of a man who suddenly appeared on the top of his ship. Lando turned around and slowly clambered his way down the side of the ship before dropping completely to the ground - a considerable fall.

"Isn't it always a prize for an 'entrepreneur' like yourself?" Sabine responded, approaching the man with a tinge of scepticism and judgment. "Absolutely horrid instructions, by the way."

"The other ship was bugged and recording all audio, and Lastar's men swarm the docks! I knew it was a stretch but I was sure you'd put it all together. After all, we have so much histor-"

" _Experience_." Ezra interrupted, taking a page of Lando's playbook while Sabine held back a chuckle. "Now, let's get this stolen ship airborne. We only have -"

"Don't worry about the time, that doesn't matter anymore! And for the record, this baby wasn't stolen, she was reclaimed - this here is the Millennium Falcon, my flagship among the cosmos... Lastar thought he could swipe it from me after he saw how quickly I pulled off the Kessel run, well… no dice. All I had to do was commandeer one of his underling's cargo ships for ransom to get the info I desired. A few pulled wires and the Falcon is mine once again, now with an auto-turret and an improved targeting array!"

"Well, I'm happy that you have your baby back. Happier that Lastar's footing the bill. We'll celebrate when we're in hyperspace and away from this furnace." Sabine agreed, to Lando's swift disapproval.

"Ah, no, not yet. The magnetic lock is in place, now that you took so long. Activated about ten minutes ago."

"Magnetic lock?" Ezra frowned, producing his lightsaber and scanning landing poles for a mechanical boot.

"The entire platform is magnetized, with the grip localized in accordance to the form of the ship docked." Lando explained, bringing attention to the metallic floor of the hanger, which shone with polish and without a speck of damage. "Can't lightsaber this mechanism away."

"Great." Ezra said, clipping the lightsaber to his belt once again. "So, where do we g- oh, right... That's why you're still here, waiting for us: We're going to sneak into some high-security place to disable the lock."

Lando pointed to the Space Control Tower.

"...And you're pointing at the Space Control tower. Great! Say… You'll still be here when we demagnetize the platform and get back down, right?" Ezra announced as the smuggler began to walk off.

"A deal's a deal!" The rogue said as he sauntered to the opening loading ramp, leaving the two rebels to plan their last heist of the evening.

They stared at the pillar of the Space Control Tower, about half the size of the broadcast tower on Lothal.

"No way you can fly both of us up there, right?"

"Well... Maybe we don't have to get 'up there'." Sabine corrected. "The magnetic lock is probably powered by an operative generator and power line that runs straight to this hangar. Take that out and the Bay Eight should be temporarily relieved of magnetism."

"Good idea - let's get this over with."

They exited the hangar opposite of where they had first entered, heading straight towards the base of the control tower that loomed less than 50 meters in the distance. In typical Imperial efficiency, there was no straight hallway to the Control Tower's base - instead, the pair had to take a right and find the hallway that would take them to the lifts and the generators beneath them.

Security was light. Too light.

Sabine sighed as she summoned a lift with a knuckle to the control pad and leveled her blasters down the hallway, expecting a swarm of stormtroopers in the next couple moments.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that this was good luck… That security is light because of the festival."

"But... it's a trap."

"It's totally a trap." Sabine agreed, overlapping Ezra's words with a chuckle and a sigh.

"Well, they've had their opportunities to intercept us: we still have a chance at outrunning them." Ezra offered hopefully, prompting an eye-roll from his friend.

"I guess we could - otherwise they would've confronted us in the hanger. But apparently my Jedi's broken - he can't seem to detect anything!."

Ezra smiled as he stepped into the elevator after Sabine, looking down the corridor as he disappeared from view. The Mandalorian was already priming a charge on the roof of the elevator, in case they needed another dynamic distraction.

"No, not broken, just low on charge."

"Hmm." Sabine hummed, humored but trying to act unimpressed as she admired her handiwork. "I guess you need to start bringing thermos of stim-tea or caf for your missions... Also, forty credits we get greeted by lightsabers when these doors open."

Ezra thought for a moment, and dallied a bit with The Force to tip things in his favor...

* * *

The rebels were inside the tower, Space Traffic Control could confirm: their path was traced through the VIP docks and down the lifts - clearly making their way down to the magna-lock generators. Ninth Brother insisted they should move to cripple the docked ships to rob the rebels of any escape vehicle, but their master disagreed.

"Destroying the ships would make too much noise, not to mention under the ownership of many high-profile characters on Shu-Torun… You two will go to stop them at the generators. Capture them…. Or pursue them through the facility and allow me to cut off their escape. Understood?"

Third Sister bowed her head.

"Yes, Grand Inquisitor."

* * *

"...Deal."

"Ah, _now_ he works!" Sabine said with teeth in her smile, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous tint.

"You know it's more complicated the further I look." Ezra defended with a raised palm. "I can look beyond this doorway with little issue, but down the hall… Deeper into the future? Different story."

"Ezra Bridger: always ready with an excuse." Sabine teased back in her usual way, pretending to not listen or care. Ezra sighed and rubbed his hand on his face as he chuckled, before focusing on the door as it opened...

...Sometimes he couldn't read his Mandalorian friend: She was the most disciplined and astute warrior of the Rebellion, Ezra would bet his saber on it... but she could choose the strangest moments to kick back and jaw off. Maybe her affinity for the battlefield enabled this impromptu attitude, her comfort in operations giving rise to such sudden flirtations. Not that he didn't mind - this was what made Sabine so fun and unlike the rest of the team, the only one who could rival him in spontaneity. Only with her he could be the nervous, uptight one.

The doors had opened while Ezra thought, revealing an empty landing as he had predicted. In the distance, the quiet hum of a generator vibrated behind the sealed metal doors. Sabine peaked out, checking the corners and down the hall, before turning to Ezra with an impatient grin.

"Hurry up, the generator won't fry itself."

Ezra hustled out of the elevator to catch up to Sabine, who had bolted down the hall towards the source of the buzz. He produced his blaster to help Sabine cover the angles: while Sabine trained her weapons down the hallway, he had his DL ready to cover their tracks. Yet still their footsteps echoed out unanswered, alone in the metal network. The door to the generator room was even accessible through Sabine's wrist-tool, easily opening up to a large room filled with readouts, control panels and glass-tube capacitors.

"Hm…" Sabine muttered as she surveyed the room for weaknesses, producing zap charges as she took lead and approached the flickering electronics.

"I'll just stand back and let you work your charms." Ezra joked to no reply, as Sabine was already too engrossed in her craft to hear him. As she muttered to herself and pursued past the various stations, she occasionally attached one of her zapper charges to a magnetic surface. Ezra took the time to seat himself by the door, crossing his legs and letting his mind settle. He let the peaceful wake of The Force ebb around feet, slowly creeping up past his knees and waist until he was quietly submerged in the ocean. It was strange how The Force revealed itself to him, taking the form of a foreign sky, an alien Earth, always invigorated by the souls and energy of every iota of life in the Galaxy. It was dizzying, healing… even-

"Not again, Ezra! Do I really hav eto wake you to make sure nothing's loose up there?"

The Palawan opened his eyes to see Sabine hovering over him, grinning and eager to chastize. Ezra quickly stood up and disputed her complaints.

"One can never be too connected to The Force."

"...Right." Sabine responded, almost Hera-like in her playful skepticism. "Done here - charges are set for thirty seconds on my mark."

"You sure?"

Sabine snorted and pressed a button on her arm guard, and a synchronized chorus of countdown-beeps sounded off. Ezra blinked and gave her a thumbs up.

"Roger roger! We're leaving."

* * *

Ninth Brother hissed as he sensed movement behind the door - the scum had already sabotaged the generators. He slowed down just as Third Sister arrived to the generators doors from the opposite side, cutting off the only remaining escape route. He brought out his lightsaber, his eyes conveying his intentions to his subordinate - they would trap them here between these two lightsabers, no matter how many generators they had sabotaged.

Once the doors opened, the infiltrators bolted out with quite a spring in their step - eager to get far away from the explosion. The girl caught eye of the red blades the first, halting in a second and reaching for her darksaber. The padawan was less aware, taking two steps forward before he recognized the Inquisitor standing before him.

Ninth Brother grinned maniacally, teeth sparkling as he slowly began to rotate his Saberstaff.

"Hello again…"

The two rebels activated their lightsabers in response, their faces narrowing as they assessed their opponents. Ninth Brother found their resolve so hilarious and duplicitous: they had run out of tricks - trapped like prey in a snare. It would be simple from here…

" _Now_ what will you do?" He began, too eager to conceal his satisfaction. "What brilliant maneuvers will save you this time?"

"I've got three - what's your stance on Mandalorian tranq-darts?"

The kid was _oozing_ with overconfidence, his eyes carrying an unshakable spark of something that dug underneath the warrior's skin: His distance from the Dark Side infuriated Ninth Brother, the composure and lack of fear insulting to the Servant of Vader. Everyone bowed to it's power, but this kid - clearly exhausted - still had the gall to resist - out of spite? Out of condescending purity?

It was enough to make him growl and push step forward: make an aggressive shove or feint to try and unnerve the cocky brat - but the rebel took the advance by sticking his lightsaber forward and towards the hilt of the Inquisitor's saber-staff. The same infuriating counter that had plagued the Inquisitor in the hangar - but Ninth Brother was not the one to shy away from a challenge. Turning his body and tilting his saber forward, he was able to sweep down and catch the jab without retreating ground. Ezra slipped away from the connection before the blade could start spinning again and throw him off balance, and the Inquisitor used the retreat as an excuse to throw an overhead swing into the equation.

This attack the padawan deflected handily, catching it before directing the red lightsaber into the ground. At that moment, an explosion rocked from inside the generator room, and the hallway lights flickered momentarily. It gave pause to Ninth Brother, who eased up the assault to pull his saber out of the floor and wait for the Rebel Jedi to take initiative.

But there was nothing. Ezra had abandoned the duel to aid his partner instead, lunging forward to interrupt Third Sister's assault on the Mandalorian.

Ninth Brother stood still momentarily, before leaping forward with an irritated hiss and swinging at the Jedi who had so rudely abandoned their fight. But at that moment, Sabine Wren pivoted and thrust her darksaber out, forcing another defensive maneuver and amping up the Inquisitor's frustration even more. He reversed motion to strike her with the lagging end of his saber, but the Mandalorian quickly caught the rising blade and with a flick of her wrists directed it to thin air.

But not as smoothly as Bridger - her finesse with the Darksaber was impressive for a lesser human, but not as spectacular as her Jedi friend. Ninth Brother was able to reverse momentum once again and push through her defensive parry, pushing the Darksaber too and fro as he struggled to get an easy track to her gut. The Mandalorian realized the danger and resisted every inch, but Ninth Brother's force was simply too strong. It was at the threshold of victory that Ezra intervened, dancing off of Third Sister's Saberstaff to assist his teammate and spoiling Ninth Brother's hard-earned victory. The Jedi pressed forward, trading a heavy blow before striking at the center of the Saber-staff once more, pushing the Inquisitor to the brink of insanity. Third Sister attempted to capitalize, but the Mandalorian switched opponents with ease.

The two just had so much _synergy_ \- even cornered, they showed no fear and had absolute trust in each others' abilities, with some unspoken, unseen connection that made their actions synchronized and effortless. How often had they practiced together?!

And _again_ with Ezra's filthy, shit-eating grin. Fury and impatience boiled over as the Inquisitor felt violence pour into the palm of his left hand: he pushed off the Jedi's blade and pulled back to materialize his rage. This nonsense would end now…

* * *

"NOW!"

Sabine was so focused on not dying to the female Inquisitor's saber that she thought she was too late to react to Ezra's cue. She dropped to her knees, almost sprawling completely on the ground, eyes still fixated on her opponent.

The Inquisitor stared downwards at the defenseless Mandalorian for a moment before jerking her face upwards, just as the wave of power took her like a leaf in the wind. The Force Push sent her flying down the corridor, a victim of her own partner's lack of control. Typical Inquisitor impulsiveness, just like she and Ezra had counted on.

Sabine got to her feet to help Ezra deal with the remaining Inquisitor, but for once luck smiled on them - the man was so stunned by his error that Ezra was able to pull him off the ground with ease, pinning him on the ceiling, flat and immobile.

"Run for it." Ezra growled in exertion, and Sabine bolted past just as the Inquisitor broke free. The sharp noise of two sabers connecting sounded off almost made her stop and turn, but she trusted Ezra: he would be right behind her.

And he was.

" _Run-run-run_!"

"I'm not the one falling behind!" Sabine shot back hotly, unholstering one of her blasters and firing it back at their pursuers. Out of the three shots fired, two of them whizzed back past the pair, deflected by saber.

"What did we say about shooting at Inquisitors?!"

"They're kriffin' Inquisitors, not Vader!" Sabine argued back defensively. "They barely deflected them in our direction!"

Sabine took a quick glance backward to see their hunters hurl their saberstaffs in unison, blotting out the entire hallway as two upright, whirling blades of death. As undaunted and Mandalorian as Sabine was, the sight, along with her exhaustion, ate away at her confidence and patience.

"Ezra…?!"

"Just a bit further!"

Sabine snarled and gave it her all, all 150 percent. The elevator lobby appeared at her side, and she sidestepped into the alcove, grabbing Ezra's shoulder and pulling him along for the ride. She staggered to a stop as he stumbled down. The two lightsabers continued down the hallway, before shutting off and tumbling on the ground in an unceremonious clatter. Ezra summoned the lift just as the lightsabers shot back down the hallway and out of sight, snared by the invisible tethers of the force.

"Uh, Specter 6?"

"Yeah..." Ezra nodded, realizing they had no time to waste on the elevator. "Blow it."

Sabine activated the booby-trapped lift through her wrist-pad, the rigged elevator shutter opposite from them exploded in a wave of smoke and noise. The ran into the smoke just as the Inquisitors arrived at the landing, Ezra grabbing onto Sabine's shoulders as her jetback flared to life one more time, taking them up past the burnt and smoldering remains and into the darkness of the elevator shaft.

Dark red lights were Sabine's guide for which floor they were passing - and the walls that she needed to avoid. Her previous knowledge of Imperial stations flickered by as she passed the armory, the storage level, and the interrogation cells. Arriving at the ground floor and slowing to a hover, Sabine pushed Ezra onto a foothold before the turbolift doors before landing on a thin ledge on the opposite side of the shaft.

"Get to it - they're probably going to use the lift you called."

Ezra already had his saber out and was working on cutting them an entrance, grumbling at the realization.

"Yeah, yeah, I know… Any more fuel in the jetpack?"

"Not enough for a maneuver like that." Sabine yelled, swaying momentarily before stiffening and finding a more stable waiting position.

"Alright." Ezra announced, pulling back his lightsaber and looking to his comrade. "You ready?"

"Just _go_."

Ezra nodded and summoned The Force, shoving the loose slab of metal out of place and giving the pair an opening. He lept through first, saber instinctively going through the gut of the first Stormtrooper he saw. Pulling out his DL-44, he fired off two quick shots to knock down another trooper and cause the rest of them to flinch. Sabine was out of the elevator shaft and firing blasters right after him, and in two more long swings of each saber, the landing was clear.

But the alarm was blaring.

"Go-go- _go_!" Ezra cried out, spying an elevator door opening, running away before confirming his suspicions.

* * *

The Grand Inquisitor looked over the Executive Hangars from the confines of an imperial patrol transport, a militarized Coruscant Police Gunship that carried a number of troopers to 'help' with her containment of the Jedi. Four other transports hovered around the facility, monitoring the Space Control Tower from the sky: Deceptively silent and uneventful, there was no sign of the struggle occurring deep within the Imperial complex, but through The Force the metal walls hid nothing.

She saw it all, from the rebels entering the generator room, to her underlings attempting and failing to corral them in the hallway (an aggressive and a poorly-thought out strategy, no teamwork and all individual blunder), the rebels jetting up an elevator chute, the dash out towards open air…

"Grand Inquisitor!" Her transceiver screamed out from her belt, mimicking the furious soprano of the Third Sister. "The rebels are headed to Bay Eight."

It took a moment for her to blink the interruption from her eyes, before glancing at the pilot and making her intention clear.

"Move overhead the area and wait for my instruction."

How effective people could be, under the sway of the Force: the Force-Dominated pilot wasted no time for clarification or calculation, easily steering the transport overhead the Hangar and the Corellian Freighter housed within, it's sublight engines already blue with in anticipation.

The Grand Inquisitor stepped out into the air, and fell down, down, down...

Down to put an end to the chase.

* * *

End Chapter


	8. Rebel Rhythm

Did you miss me? Boy, did I miss you.

I will elaborate the absence in detail in my author's note at the end of the story, but I will tell you that I got very very busy and then the canon of Season 4 messed with my original plan on how to finish the story. Plus a lot of editing. This was a long chapter!

But at last I believe I have the ending that satisfies me - and where to go from there. So, let this be a reminder to you that I have not abandoned Star Wars Rebels, nor Sabine, nor Ezra.

Anyhow, I'm loving Season 4 so far. The subtle nods to how comfortable Ezra and Sabine are to one another is precious - the fact that they were a duo for four episodes was even more awesome! I hope that the canon continues this trend of setting them as the "Ghost Squad Strike Force", because they really come across as a great battle duo - now they just need to become a battle couple! Someone please get me into a Discord or chat room so I can dump all of my emotions about Ezra getting a jetpack and joking with Sabine's father and him sharing a nice long look with Sabine at the end of the Season Premier...

Well, little outburst of excitement is past. Be prepared for this chapter, it's chock full of who-knows-what and has been cooking on my hard-drive for 8 months! Eight!

I hope you enjoy it.

.

.

.

Chapter 8

Rebel Rhythm

* * *

Sabine exhaled loudly in frustration as the bolt from her blaster missed the control panel by two feet - was something wrong with her blaster - the sights bent or the settings messed with? As she aimed for a more accurate shot, the sudden burn in her arm and shoulder revealed the truth - exhaustion. She had been in the field for such a long time, with the lactic acid burning through the numbing and invigorating effects of adrenal and endorphins. The pain that would plague her muscles in future days would be severe… provided she survived.

And to survive, this door needed to _open_. There were only inches of empty space left - blasting the control panel would cause damage and reverse the shutting process - but blasting the panel too late and the door would simply lock shut and refuse to open. Not a good outcome when two Inquisitors were hot on your heels, and Sabine wasn't going to waste time worrying about the worst possible outcome.

So her second shot did the trick, and the doors finally reversed motion to let the fleeing rebels through. The hanger was clear, the loading ramp of the Millennium Falcon was facing away from them, with the ramp down. Freedom was so tantalizingly close that it frustrated Sabine, especially with sudden chill that chewed at her skin. Another symptom of exhaustion?

"Sabine, hand me a flash charge." Ezra demanded in a whisper as they approached the doorway - a request that Sabine instinctively processed. Ezra palmed the detonator-disguised flashbang and it vanished - hid in one of his many secret compartments.

The Shu-Turn atmosphere of ashe felt much colder now that Sabine was hot and burning the last of her energy - she could tell Ezra was in the same shape. But it was an unnatural freeze, not something she would have expected from a volcanic planet, and it only seemed to get colder when the black figure dropped down onto the pavement before them, forcing the Mandalorian to shudder to a halt for what felt was the thousandth time this evening.

Sabine appealed to every powerful creature she could think of: The Bendu, The Ashla, The Manda, the old gods Hod and Kad and even Arasuum for good measure, but she could already figure that the black figure was going to stand up and present an infinitely greater trouble than the two Inquisitors chasing them.

There was no mask, no hidden identity: The Mirialan was patient and peaceful as she made it clear they were not going to pass. Spectre Five was relieved that it wasn't the haunting, pneumatic nightmare of a Sith Lord that was Darth Vader… but the chill that made her hairs stand on the edge of her skin seemed to tell little difference between the two. Ezra always talked about how deathly frozen the users of the Dark Side were, how their presence was felt by both Force-Wielders and commoners alike. If this one was able to effect Sabine to such an extent… how was Ezra holding up?

"Ezra Bridger, Padawan of Kanan Jarrus. Sabine Wren of House Vizsla, Clan Wren... and with the Darksaber, another tutee of Kanan's... I recall your master fondly."

Sabine was thinking of a witty comeback to snap back at the Inquisitor's attempt to establish a hierarchy over their mentor - but with a wave of the Grand Inquisitor's hand she could hear two saberstaffs sheath and power down behind her. Their new foe had ordered her subordinates to stand down? Maybe the only positive of this turn of events was this person's profound sense of confidence. Maybe.

"And I guess that's supposed to impress us?" Ezra responded with an dejected, disappointed sigh, "Sorry old lady, but you'll have to come up with something better than 'I knew your master'."

With Ezra facing down their new opponent, Sabine took the moment to stealthily glance at the two black-clad inquisitor's hanging back towards the entryway of the hangar, and a wave of stormtroopers forming in the hallway behind them. She suddenly heard Ezra mutter so quietly, she thought she was imagining his voice...

 _Sabine. Get to the ship._

 _What?_

The Mirialan rolled her eyes and took a step forward, and Sabine inched backwards a tad - this secret communication wasn't so secret...

 _Get to the ship. One of us needs to get out with the intel._

 _One_ of us? The phrase formed a sharp dagger in Sabine's stomach with just the thought of the concept. Just then she could the dark volcanic planet of Mustufar, all of it's charcoal edges and sulfuric clouds, the planet where Jedi go to die… They had swiped Kanan away from its orbit on pure luck - there would never be a repeat performance. So, no. Ezra was coming with her - they were a package deal, damnit: Lando had promised that they'd be back on the Ghost, safe and sound. How were they going to escape the planet now, with their presence revealed and the Interdictor Cruisers alerted?

"Listen, boy. I understand how self-sacrifice is something you lot revel in, but it would be much more beneficial if you both turned yourselves in peacefully. No need to try and give her some opportunity to escape..."

Kriff this annoying, heavily Coruscanti-accented hag - She was not helping matters with the constant patronization, but firing off a blaster bolt was not going to shut her up.

 _Sabine…_

Ezra was aware of it as well, Sabine realized. His whisper was strained and pleading: a clear sign of a vulnerable and very desperate friend, concerned for the wellbeing of his partner (and the mission). As a Mandalorian and mutual friend, the emotion was cleansing for her own internal conflict and worry. It was her turn to lead: She would trust him.

 _We'll pull a 44-scoop._ She responded, standing up straight and relaxing her pose, activating her darksaber and let it rest by her hip. For a moment she thought she couldn't speak, but then her voice sounded out into the open air, as unabashed and defiant as always.

"Ezra, remind me: do we ever do anything quietly?"

The padawan grinned as he straightened and stretched one more time, activating his own lightsaber.

"Hm..."

He dropped low and leapt straight towards the new adversary, catching her quickly-activated saber with a tremendous velocity that pinned her to the ground. Sabine's jetpack shot her forward, past the collision and to the loading ramp of the freighter. As she passed the two interlocked warriors, she could hear the rest of Ezra's response, laughing and full of that classic Bridger swagger.

" **Never**!"

Reaching the entrance, Sabine took two steps up the ramp before her Darksaber instinctively rose up to protect its wielder - a thrown saber deflected off of the crackling black-white blade, with a spark of thunder flashing by her cheek and a red lightsaber glancing off to the side, its red line missing her neck as it rotated. It stopped, the daggerlike hilt hovered menacingly in mid-air, before being recalled back to the Mirialan Inquisitor's free hand. The woman nodded, seemingly unimpressed and willing to play with her prey.

"Go on then, girl. Play your game."

It only just occurred to Sabine that death had kissed her cheek - and for a moment she felt an impulse to collapse in stunned surrender as she looked the Inquisitor in the eye- the subtle chill and fear of the darkside that existed within her felt much more real and visceral than she could have imagined. It was a strange mental stranglehold that she shook free from as she bolted into the ship and hollered into the intercom system to raise the damn ramp and get in the air.

"I was wondering when you'd say that!" Lando answered as the Millennium Falcon lifted off the ground, angling skywards to escape the Empire. Sabine swayed, momentarily lost in the takeoff, drained by the darkness, feeling helpless…

But only for a moment.

* * *

Ezra gasped as he strained against the Inquisitor's saber, desperately trying to wrestle her attention away from the fleeing Corellian ship. He had held his breath when the second saber had closed in on Sabine, but with her deflection and escape he was able to focus on the fight at hand.

Realizing he wasn't going to earn anything out of trying to push down on her guard, he broke away and attempted a swing from another angle. The Inquisitor easily deflected it with her second saber, probing at the Jedi with the first and forcing him to dance away. With the momentary distance, she sheathed both of her weapons, placing one on her holster and reaching for her comlink.

Ezra snarled and reached into The Force. For a second, the comlink pulled to him - but the Inquisitor saw the motion and retaliated with her own powers, summoning a blast from her fingertips that flung him back and in between the two bewildered Inquisitors.

Ezra stared at the leader as she brandished the comlink in her hands, making eye contact with her subordinates.

"Now you two prove yourselves."

Two saberstaffs shot out into existence with the command, while the lead Inquisitor opened a channel on her comlink, requesting aerial reinforcements to deal with an escaped ship, as well as alerting two Interdictor-Class Star Destroyers that were drifting up in orbit. Ezra wished to interrupt her, but there were two Inquisitor's currently trying to kill him. He deflected one blow, and slid underneath another, trying to evade the reach of the saberstaffs and escape from in-between the two fighters. On one side, he could keep track of both of their movements and play their aggressive postures off one another...

...but the Inquisitors were patient and sensed the blood in the water. The female combatant stood back and circled around Ezra as he tried to dance away from the pincer, while her compatriot spun his saber like a helicopter, blurring Ezra's vision as they stalked one another.

And stars above, the lethargy… Ezra felt desperation slowly creeping up his spine - but a rash maneuver could be evaded and spell the end of him - and with the Grand Inquisitor quietly watching the scene like a looming guillotine…

He had to get out of here. But how?

The answer came to him in a barrage - one that was so sudden and unexpected and unannounced in The Force that he nearly sprawled out on the ground, flinching as turret bolts blasted into the most volatile places in the hanger - the lights fizzled and sparked out over the ground, dust and debris kicked up by blasted walls, containers clanged to the ground in laser-burnt disarray. The stormtroopers that were rushing in to contain the situation were disoriented and scrambled, the Inquisitors turned their saberstaffs skyward to dissuade the strafing Falcon, while Grand Inquisitor personally dodged a number of shots directed at her.

Sabine always delivered.

Ezra used the moment to capture his cool and calm, summoning The Force to trip up his two opponents was a simple task, because the feat he was about to undertake was going to cost him…

* * *

The Grand Inquisitor covered her face as the dust around her faded, the shots were close but ultimately flew wide. She had barely spent any time on dodging them, more concerned of the fact that her two hounds were going to let the hare escape. She shouted into the air but the cacophany aided in Ezra Bridger's escape, her two clowns suddenly flat on the ground to the most minute of Force Pushes, and the padawan running to the wall. The warrior considered using The Force, but the kid was obscured by dust and already leaping up the hangar walls with great leaps and strides, using the wreckage Sabine Wren blasted into the walls as stepping stones.

"Get after him."

The Inquisitors recovered and rushed off at her quiet command, binary and simple but dripping by with malice - they would chase Ezra Bridger down, weaken him and wear him out in both body and spirit. In desperation, his reliance on The Force would grow and when all of his tricks and powers are played out, she would judge him.

The skill was certainly there, but was the resolve? Would his grasp of the Force and his reliance on emotion show potential in darker, more effective tactics? The previous Grand Inquisitor had made notes on Ezra's potency and innate talent in the Force, both the dark and the light. The Seventh Sister had also made note of the Padawan's growing awareness of the darkness, and his attempts to resist it. Resistance was a good sign - the more they resisted, the stronger the Inquisitor.

The Grand Inquisitor stepped into the troop transport, ready to survey the chase and plot her intervention. Go forth, relentless subordinates: Wear him out. She would decide the destiny of Ezra Bridger soon enough .

* * *

The stupid saberstaffs and their stupid flopping helicopter technique - They could hang on those bloody things and chase him for miles. He had about three miles left in his legs, tops. How far away was the bridge?

Ezra glanced to his side as the Millennium Falcon cruised up and away from the city level - with TIE-fighter reinforcements inbound, they would want to clear the level and dogfight out in the open air. When he reached the bridge - they would return.

Ezra looked forward and felt energy seep and speed up his pace - running towards the flickering and strobing lights of the parties. Time to dance.

* * *

Sabine's shoulder collided with a wall of the freighter's hull as she stumbled up to the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon. After blasting the hangar to smithereens, the sudden acceleration away from the city had made her jump out of the turret seat and rush in a panic -

"We're not leaving him, Lando!"

"We aren't? From what I can tell, Ezra is a very capable- woah now."

Lando took a moment to glance away from the controls and the window to look at Sabine as she had begun to reach to her holster.

...

"You're wouldn't point a WESTAR blaster at your pilot, would you?"

"Of course not." Sabine replied with a smile that she never believed she could wear - threatening and Sith-ish. Lando took a moment to recognize the Darksaber hovering on the other side of his face, vibrating impartially and unsympathetically.

"Alright… so we don't leave the boy… Understood! So… how do we get him on board?"

"A 44-Scoop:" Sabine began as deactivated her blade, relaxing by the smallest amount, "That bridge just South from the hangars - fly under beneath 50 kph on my mark. Until then, we stay in the area and give him fire support. Understood?"

"Understood… I'm going to need…"

"...some fire to keep those TIEs of your back? I'm on it. Show me what this scrapheap can do, Lando!"

Sabine ran back, shouldering and checking walls as she made her way back to the turret controls. Sliding down the ladder and into the control chair, she spun the quad-turrets around and zeroed back in to where Ezra was last, spotting the pursuing Inquisitor's and transports (small yet defined figures in the distance), and began to lay waste.

* * *

The Grand Inquisitor sighed as Sabine Wren proved to be a rather persistent annoyance - the Corellian ship was rounding about and returning to the fight with surprisingly fast atmospheric speed - quick like a starfighter. Laser bolts flashed past the transports before one punctured one of the vehicles drifting aft to her own transport, spinning it down in a death spiral that collided with the edge of a City Disk, losing all power and dropping down to the volcanic surface like scrap-heap.

The TIE fighters would soon interfere with the rebel freighter and strike it from the sky, but with this defiance the Grand Inquisitor became inquisitive… How much would Sabine Wren bend?

"Bring me closer to the freighter's trajectory."

As she drifted closer to the approaching YT-1300, the Inquisitor stared out into nothing, before closing her eyes and seeing the Mandalorian firing away from the confines of the turret control. She made contact, meticulously combing the girl's psyche, before finding a weakness and striking hard at its center.

* * *

Sabine was lost in trying to blast the damn transports out of the sky that the first green bolt and shake of the shields caught her by surprise. She shifted and spun the turret to spy the incoming TIE fighters (no TIE Defenders, yet, praise the Ashla) and open fire. Out of a cluster of five in a standard attack run, Sabine was able to pierce one and scrape three others - scattering them and making them break off the attack. They would be back.

She spun back to target and help Ezra - setting her sights on a transport that was breaking ranks. As the Millennium Falcon was approaching the bridge for the first pass, she could tell that there was something different about this ship...

But where had all the noise gone? It felt as though when she was stuck shooting at the TIEs, her ears became shot by the echoing scream of laser bolts. Sabine rested her thumbs on the triggering mechanism as she understood the importance of this transport - carrying the Grand Inquisitor herself. Staring right at her?

Sabine shook her head, trying to focus her targeting system on the transport. But even as she let the computer zero in on the trajectory… her hand dropped to her side.

"Chit." Sabine tried to whisper, but there was only a despondent silence as she hand produced a thermal detonator. Her fingers took a moment to gently rub the surface, searching for the primer.

Force Dominate was nothing like being caught in a chokehold in a Force Grip: unlike the immense physical violence that was briefly summoned by an almost merciful Darth Maul, the sadism of removing free will was a whole different dimension of torment. Sabine wanted to scream but couldn't, wanted to relax or fall away but wouldn't, stuck to throwing herself against the confines of her own mind as her thumb flicked the detonator on. Nothing was working, and nothing would work - the Grand Inquisitor was 600 meters away and had nothing to break her concentration.

She had to break free. Sabine let that phrase become a mantra as she strained to do something - drop the device, close her fingers around it and switch it off, anything.

Anything.

* * *

The fear was incredibly gratifying for the Inquisitor to sense and observe: such a desperate, frantic tearing at the veil. But Sabine was no Jedi, no special girl. She would burn up and suffer for her arrogance and contempt.

* * *

There was nothing but the detonator in Sabine's life now. She couldn't feel the sweat on her brow, register the roar of TIE engines, or understand the intercom.

Even emotions didn't register anymore. Thoughts were quiet and empty. Whatever Force Dominate was, Sabine just wanted it to be over with - but was that her true thought or just more of the Inquisitor's manipulation?

Everything was so surreal - like she was some actor or character in a show, no control or chance to change this destiny. She just stared at that detonator as it winded to its ignition point. She had tried everything, but nothing worked.

As the warning reached a crescendo, she realized the one thing she could do - close her eyes. Maybe it was a last cruel and mocking gift from her murderer, but she suddenly lost vision, and tilted her head back to to take one last breath of air… Just as the detonation occurred.

The air was metallic. She opened her eyes to grey.

She looked down to see grey. Grey smoke everywhere.

…

It took Sabine a moment, but then hysteria and irony made her double over in laughter, then lean forward to grasp the turret controls.

* * *

Laughter and humor was not what the Inquisitor had expected, and just that alone broke her concentration. She furrowed her brow, trying to pin down the Mandalorian's still-existing soul in order to understand why the thermal detonator had not detonated…

 _...Was it a thermal detonator?_

* * *

Of course it wasn't a kriffing detonator - all Sabine was carrying for the operation were flashbangs or smoke grenades disguised as detonators. How could she have forgotten that?! The schutta Inquisitor must had thought she had it all figured out, so much so that when she took control of Sabine's mind, the Mandalorian believed what the Inquisitor had believed - that she was dead.

Well, surprise surprise. Where was your precious dark side now?

The air ducts were already draining the smoke at an alarming speed. The transport came into sight and Sabine let the gas canister slip from her hands as she grabbed the controls to take aim once more. The sudden silence began to nag at her again, and for a moment the hilarity and joy that had broken out of Sabine was threatened.

But her fingers were already jammed on the fire button, and the Inquisitor's infallibility became a circus act. Sabine felt herself again, shaking away the control as she gave everything she had to knocking the damn Force user out of the sky.

* * *

The Inquisitor lost patience and broke contact, clenching the handle angrily as the transport swerved to avoid the laser blasts that leapt out from the runaway ship as it arced over the pursuing TIE fighters.

How droll. She should've used the darksaber, or one of the girl's WESTAR blasters for a guaranteed kill, but in trying to damage the ship with something as explosive as what seemed to be a thermal detonator, she had failed. Now the magic was gone - Sabine was no longer afraid, and that alone made her too costly and too difficult of a target. When Sabine put the crosshairs on the Inquisitor's transport, she no longer showed apprehension or weakness or nerve like that moment she blocked the red saber - she showed plain defiance.

The sort of holier-than-thou Jedi defiance that was starting to resurface in the galaxy, it seemed. Not something you could strangle through the Force. Something you had to slaughter with a saber.

The Grand Inquisitor had peered into Sabine's mind. She knew enough.

"To the bridge."

* * *

Lights shot past Ezra like laser bolts, and for a Jedi who was so attuned to dodging Stormtroopers and AT-DPs, it was an incredibly stressful addition to an already tremulous scenario.

This rooftop dance floor took him back to a time where he and Zeb were doing some recon back on Garrel, just a while after they had escaped Thrawn's attack. Meeting an informant in a seedy bar, where the dancers and beams of colors proved to be incredibly distracting and confusing for the typically level-headed and cocky Bridger. He had wanted to revisit the scene, but practically everyone in the Ghost shook their head, groaned, and talked him down: it wasn't a safe, stable place.

But that's exactly why he was interested in the party scene all of this chaos and confusion forced you to think on your feet, something Ezra was well versed in. That at least helped ease the stress, even though the frantic lights were adding another layer of difficulty.

And, if it was bad for him, it was probably worse for his pursuers - who had dropped out of their stupid, silly saberstaff antics to pursue him on foot. He had been evading the pair from the Space Traffic complex by jumping from rooftop to rooftop, gunning for the bridge in hopes that Sabine and Lando would be there to scoop him up. Every platform was an entirely different scenario: sometimes the Inquisitor's would land in front of him and cut him off, other times they would land behind him and just barely miss his neck with a swing of a lightsaber. Sometimes he was able to dodge them handily: somersault over a slice, or sidestepping a thrust, while other times he was forced to stop and defend, block high then low, switching focus from one Inquisitor to the other. It was a hopeless sort of fight he always had to run from, and Ezra knew that the lucky scrapes were soon going to end up as bleeding cuts.

Another rooftop, another party crashed. He landed right next to a turntable that was actually playing something… sick. That's the word Coruscanti underground artists used to compliment music, Ezra swore Sabine had said it at one point.

The Disc Jockey dived out of the way as the glittering and confetti strewed dance floor was hastily evacuated. One unlucky civilian drunkenly brandished a pistol before the female Inquisitor literally disarmed him while landing. Ezra frowned at the injustice and the agonizing screams that followed, but he had no time to waste on a poor man holding up a smoking stump of a hand. The second Inquisitor was busy trying to give Ezra something to scream about, slashing down from the sky right above the rebel. The padawan danced away from the attack and kept his saber extended as he rose up to face his pursuers, who moved quickly to cut off his path forward. He had been trying to throw them off… but it seems that they were figuring out the bridge was his intended destination.

"Nowhere to run, Jedi." The man spoke with a scowl, as three transport copters began to catch up with the Force wielders, trying to cut through the disco with their spotlights (unsuccessfully).

The music hummed in the soles of Ezra's feet, all the way up to the tip of his ears, he felt amped and in tune, like his heart was settling into the rhythm. No lethargy, no weakness: He stared at the exasperated eyes of his enemies and reminded himself of their simple fighting style.

So close. He was almost there. He just needed that extra push… and he felt that The Force would guide him. It was either The Force or the music… and at this point Ezra wasn't picky.

"I heard you say that three rooftops ago."

The man growled and turned off one of his blades, opting for the classic single-saber, and his partner followed suit. Ezra narrowed his eyes as he realized that the conflict had taken a turn, and quite possible a turn for the worse.

They rushed him on the dance floor, but while they were impulsive and independent, Ezra was in step with the tempo. He deflected the male Inquisitor's blow as he stepped backward before rushing forward and stopping the other blade inches from his chest, suddenly wedged between the two opponents. As the man attempted to unleash another assault, Ezra pushed off of the contact to stop the attack before it gained velocity and stuck a foot on the offending Inquisitor's chest, using it as a platform to backflip over the Sister. Just as she reactivated her saber-staff in a hurried attempt to strike him. He landed stable and ready to parry, cooly defending as the Sister pushed him back in a hurried exchange, impatient and buying time for her accomplice to recover from the stagger.

The man rushed past the two in a frustrated attempt to keep Ezra pinned and unable to escape, but the rebel wasn't falling prey to his assumptions - moving forward and committing to a fight with the female Inquisitor. Two strong and ferocious blows, the woman wasn't prepared to deal with the vitality or the follow-up Force Push.

"That's about the fourth time you've been pushed around like that tonight, huh?" Ezra laughed as the Inquisitor flew away, while he spun around to catch the second Inquisitor's attack, staring down the man's Sith-like eyes and deep into the man's soul.

"I'll take lead."

* * *

"You're gettin' this, right?"

"How the kriff do I not get this?" The girl clad in neon-lit chainmail snapped back, trying to get better focus on her recorder. If she had known that a spectacle like this would break out on the promenade, she wouldn't have wasted the other 80% of her battery life recording the party scene with her friends.

If it hadn't been for the buzz of the transports, the screaming Tie Fighters, and the violent laser fire that could barely be heard over the wave of sound emanating from the party, the camerawoman would have assumed this was some elaborate act, three actors or dancers rocking out with bright and incredibly captivating rapiers of pure neon. But the way the thunder and spark leapt into the air every time the red and green edges met belied a much more dangerous truth: to whatever beat the trio was dancing, death kept the tune.

"So what's goin' on?"

"You getting rusty on me?" The recorder snapped back angrily. "The boy is obviously on the lamb - the Imps are trying to take him down."

"Doin' a bad job at it." Someone spoke up over the din as the black-clad, green-wielding rebel slipped away and leapt up to the next building, more than 20 feet straight up. The rabblerouser stared down the two Imperials that glowered at him from below and quickly followed.

"You think? He's outnumbered."

"Just shut up and get that footage! The holonet is going to eat this up!"

* * *

There were at least nine different elements Ezra had to keep his mind on. Two lightsabers, two potential saberstaffs, two Inquisitors with force powers, the crowd, the Empire, and escaping.

Ordinarily impossible to navigate, but Ezra was lost in The Force. He could neutralize the Inquisitors all-together: their actions and inclinations were as clear as day through the Padawan's empathetic connection. Emotions revealed intent: exasperation equated the use of The Force, anger belied a quick exchange or an attempt to beat him on skill, and fury hinted at a reckless swing.

He could even distinguish between their two different applications of Vapaad... But then again, why was he referring to his studies of the Sith and Jedi Holocron, anyway? Whatever world Ezra existed in, he was not prepared for it - he was acclimated to using The Force for combat. But this - this sort of immersion was different: it gave him a instinctual movement that made everything seem predetermined. As he parried one blow and ducked beneath a swipe, giving one Inquisitor a sidekick and using his DL-44 to dissuade the other with an accuracy and margin of error that seemed incalcuably small.

Was he in control? He was worried that he would end up killing them on some bloodthirsty instinct, but after scaling a metal girder and reaching the end of the row of buildings, he felt reassured that he had not fallen prey to his darker inclinations.

The end of the promenade was the most elaborate of stages, with one last archway of holding aloft the largest number of strobe-lights and spotlights. Beyond the archway, the road emptied out into a no-man's land of forty feet before the waiting Imperial checkpoint. Behind that, two AT-DP walkers.

Behind them, freedom.

At this point, one of the Inquisitors is literally frothing at the mouth: and within existed a nightmarish tempest of fury and fear. Ezra frowned, struggling to identify the Inquisitor: confused since his dive into The Force was interfering with his ability to read faces. It certainly helped him avoid the rash charge and flurry of attacks that followed, but the unnerving effect The Force was having on him was starting to concern him.

Whichever Inquistor he faced - it had charged forward with a saber staff, attempting to gut him and bisect him at least five times in a flurry of powerful swings: Ezra had slipped by the charge and the parry, ducked beneath the first horizontal sweep without losing a hair, and then deflected the last four with a set of lazy swings of his own, before pushing off the blade and stopping the other Inquisitor from landing a hit. The thunder from the saber collision sparked the warrior in the eyes, and taking advantage of his foes preoccupation, Ezra leapt from the rooftop and onto the archway, surveying the roadblock momentarily, then raising his eyes to the sky and the three approaching Imperial Transports and a trio of Tie Fighters up in the atmosphere.

He could sense Sabine out there. Feel her and her emotions. She was brave, confident… laughing? That made him a bit more happy - and a bit more brave.

By the time he returned his focus, one Inquisitor stood to his right and the other had landed on his left, both retracting their saberstaffs to a single blade. They could attack in unison now, and since they stood on a linear platform, Ezra had removed his own ability to maneuver and put one foe in front of the other.

So it would come down to a single exchange, Ezra decided, thinking back to Kanan's teachings.

 _"...Through The Force, premonition can become a self-fulfilling prophecy… as long as you can commit to it."_

 _Ezra pulled himself from the ground after another leg sweep had subdued him during their spar, dusting dirt from his frame he took a cynical stance._

 _"You always told me that The Force was deceptive, Kanan. What do you mean, self-fulfilling prophecy?"_

 _His master already had his saber deactivated and was inspecting Ezra's appearance from behind the mask, his voice thoughtful and a bit lost in the memory._

 _"Well, when I lost my sight - all I saw was red, and as far as I could tell Maul made a slight bit of noise to my right. I made the decision to end the fight quickly… sometimes The Force isn't a omnipotent connection that you contemplate - sometimes it acts through you, as a means to an end."_

 _A brief silence as Ezra tried to understand what his master had said, skeptical and doubtful._

 _"So... aren't you just telling me that 'I can do whatever I put my mind to'?" The Padawan finally said._

 _"Ugh… No, Ezra. It's… Actually… You'll know what I mean when the time comes."_

* * *

Third Sister was confident it was over. The kid had just stood there staring up to the sky, his back to her as she rushed onto the archway, over the cables and spotlights and to a decent footing within striking distance. Her ally had landed expertly on the other side, cutting off any sort of escape. No more maneuverability - and if Ezra tried to drop from the archway they'd at least get a limb.

She glanced past him and to her compatriot. He nodded. They'd move in at the same instant.

It was infuriating to have fought in front of a crowd up to this stage, humiliated at every step of the way, the damn rebel always escaping the saber by some expert maneuver. He showed no fear or difficulty with any of them - she blamed the Seventh Sister and the Fifth Brother for being so terribly incompetent enough to give Ezra the confidence in fighting the Inquisitorius.

She would strike for his hip, her teammate would strike at his neck. Simple but effective…

But then the Padawan looked at her, right through the eyes, and she froze, expecting an attack or action. Ninth Brother lurched forward, and the Jedi moved with him. Third Sister rushed forward… seconds later. Crucial seconds wasted.

The Jedi parried underneath Ninth Brother's swing got up close to him, swinging his free arm across his face, while catching her attack head on with his neon-green saber. Ninth Brother stumbled back with palm to the nose before being catapulted back by a force push - as the Rebel Jedi jumped in the air and delivered a roundhouse kick that Third Sister just barely ducked under, his heel glancing off her defending arm. She swung her sword free and upwards, to try and catch the Jedi on his descent, but the red weapon flickered off. In muted surprise, she looked down at her sword to see the emitter cut clean off - and a green shard flickering next to her hand, aimed at her chest.

He had spun his saber during the kick and had poked it into her own hilt, disabling the weapon. It was… unbelievably skillful. She looked at him, and he waved farewell, blasting her back off the archway and onto the rooftop with The Force.

For a moment, collision with the steel wall of the rooftop access stairwell threatened unconsciousness. But Third Sister held on. She saw the boy leap off, confident and more than able to slip past the blockade.

She'd die if he were to do that. She couldn't let him do that.

She bolted upright and stared out to where Ninth Brother had landed - he was also recovering. Bridger had a head start, and the stormtroopers were already setting their sights on him - a futile action. She looked down to her saber, and although the ring was broken as well as the burnt out emitter, the secondary emitter flickered to life, giving her one last sword. One last chance.

She leapt from the building and down to the street just as the blockade opened fire, attempting to take out the Jedi that simply weaved past the shots and deflected some bolts on a whim. Ninth Brother threw his own saberstaff as he leapt from his rooftop, another vain attempt to slow the Jedi further.

AT-DP laser bolts scorched the ground and burnt the surrounding atmosphere, but Ezra Bridger moved forward undeterred. Even as the rotating saberstaff overtook him, he reacted without hesitation. He stopped all forward momentum and launched himself in the air, flipping and twisting feet above the bitter blade, and as it passed out of the air Ezra looked down at it, and after what seemed like a moment of internal deliberation, reached out with his hand and plucked the weapon from the air.

Only when he landed did he look back at them, almost surprised as they were. He took a moment to inspect the weapon he had acquired, before resuming his sprint. Ninth Brother vainly attempted to recover his saber through The Force, but it was unable to return, stubbornly kept by Ezra. The Jedi spun the blades and used it to dissuade the laser bolts of the firing squad, flipping over a AT-DP blast and skirting around the edge of another as he continued forward to the bridge.

Third Sister grit her teeth as she sprinted on after the runaway, realizing how tired and hindered Ezra was by the laser fire and his own exhaustion. In the span of seconds she had closed the distance enough to catch his attention and to give pause to the firing stormtroopers, who ceased fire in fear of harming a superior or under orders of a officer who was acting out in fear of harming a superior.

The ceasefire of laser bolts warned Ezra of the assassin, and quickly turned about to deal with his opponent, parrying with his own saber for the first strike, and halting the saber-staff spin to catch the second blow. It was painfully clear he wasn't comfortable wielding the saber staff on his second hand, the slight weakness that gave Third Sister some confidence in their duel. After pushing him around with a couple blows and putting herself between the Jedi and his escape route, the Inquisitor began to try to and break through his sabers and put an end to this nonsense.

* * *

Ezra had never used a Saber-staff before, let alone a weapon that dripped with such malice. The red lightsaber and it's kyber crystals felt unnatural in his hands, always disagreeing and at odds with his intentions. At some times he was convinced that it would power off just as it was about to deflect a vital blow.

The fact that the Inquisitor had become so desperate and unhinged didn't help things, blocking his way and unleashing a deluge of heavy blows and extraordinary attacks in such a clumsy and muscle-headed fashion that any heartless monster would counter with a stab to the heart - though Ezra kept seeking a way to disarm and subdue his foe peacefully.

Boy, she was making it really difficult .

Ezra bought some time by backing off for a moment and took the freedom to disengage one of the blades on the Saberstaff - a single red blade was more acceptable, although the grip and saber length was still off by a mile. It helped Ezra address the reckless assault of the Inquisitor, though his time was running perilously short: the second Inquisitor would soon be in range for Force Trickery, and the Grand Inquisitor was looming in the distance…

Ezra took initiative on the next heavy swing, deflecting it to the right but egging it along so that he could pivot around the Inquisitor and put his back to the blockade, inching closer to the Bridge. His foe spun around and let out an panicked hiss in realization, resuming the offensive as to try and prevent him from running. After another scrambled exchange of light, Ezra caught a downward slash on both of the blades. Straining against his opponent's weight, he brought his blades closer to act like a scissor, bringing the green and red lines closer and closer to his opponent's neck to test their resolve.

Resolve wavered - and Ezra used this as an opportunity to push forward with sudden energy, shoving her off a couple of feet and disengaging from their fight completely. He didn't have much left in his legs, but he had enough to dash the next couple of meters, and just as the Stormtroopers heard the order to fire, he was up in the air, jumping over their heads and onto the troop transport that blocked out the highway to the bridge.

He took three confident steps towards freedom, the AT-DPs slowly craning in a futile attempt to watch him hope off the transport and make his way down to the bridge and escape, before flinching and barely deflecting a downward slicing blade that glanced over head. Landing in front of him, the Inquisitor rushed backwards and locked locked blades with him for the fiftieth time, face furious and full of ire.

Ezra glowered as he was pushed back in the following exchange, almost off the edge of transport and back on the wrong side of the blockade. Stormtroopers scrambled to surround the vehicle and trained their sights on him. He hazily deflected a blow and spun around his opponent, too slow and tired to do else: The Inquisitor had too much stamina for him - and as he struggled to parry the following attacks, it was clear he needed another tour de Force, quickly. But then the Inquisitor kicked forward, planting her heel in his sternum and knocking him off the transport and onto the steel ground below. The kick and the icy floor squeezed the air out from Ezra's lungs two times in quick succession, and the energy and will dwindled further, leaving him with barely enough strength to roll out of the way when the Inquisitor pounced after him.

Ezra found his footing as quick as he could, but his hunter threw her entire body backwards to rip her saber from the burning metal carapace, returning to the chase too quickly for him to get any head start. He spun around to attempt a defense - and in the bright light of connected blades he lost his nerve. His hand released the heavy saberstaff and bolted backwards, just as his opponent cut right through it, missing his fingers by inches. With Ezra's saber out in the air and slow to defend, she planted her foot and stuck her other in Ezra's chest, winding him a third time and throwing him far down the bridge.

Ezra was still choking when he struggled to stand and breathe - looking up as the Imperial Transport touched down behind him, trapping him between two Inquisitors. He looked out across the cityscape - no Falcon in sight.

"Were you expecting a heroic entrance?" The Grand Inquisitor asked as she stepped out of the Imperial vehicle and strode forward with a disciplined and purposeful stride.

Ezra felt some breath return, and he puffed his chest out in indignation, determined ignore this stupid elitist attitude dark side wielders always seemed to carry as a badge of honor.

"No, I was expecting Darth Vader, not some pompous rip-off."

The Grand Inquisitor laughed as she raised her hand and waved the transporter off, bidding it to lift off and join the two other crafts that hung above the bridge.

"You did meet Lord Vader, didn't you? Twice you evaded him - once on Lothal through sheer luck, the other on Malachor through sacrifice - it's a shame he missed you here."

"Ooooh, is this where you talk about Ahsoka? Did you know her too? Are you going to tell me about how you two were such close friends?"

The Inquisitor smiled. Coldly. Ezra believed he may have hit a nerve.

"I believe this is where you make your valiant final stand."

Ezra furrowed his brow in worry, as his opponent continued to close the distance, sabers still concealed. He activated his bright green blade and brought it in front of his face with on hand to his side, a dignified salute to declare a duel - something his master had walked him through time and time again. His opponent barely registered his stance, her dark eyes trained on victory.

Ezra closed his eyes instead. With no strength left, he had no composure to call upon The Force: all he could do was open his mind and soul to the universe, hoping that The Force would act through him once more. The momentary meditation calmed his strained frame and shivering muscles. He opened his eyes while the Grand Inquisitor was mid-lunge, lashing out with her saber. The blades connected…

And it was over in seconds. The young jedi caught three blows before being overwhelmed by his opponent's fresh strength and speed, who caught his saber and forced it back until his wrist gave way and lost grip . His saber clattered on the metal ground, it's lustrous surface dented by the impact. Ezra would have worried about his twisted wrist, but the gloved hand that had wrapped around his neck and hoisted him skyward overshadowed such discomfort.

"The Grand Inquisitor before me had made note of your fear… The Seventh Sister reported that you had learned to hide it well… It's a shame you let your gift wilt and decay to such an extent."

"You say 'gift', I say poor attitude and narrow perspective on life." Ezra managed to choke out, one hand grabbing onto his enemy's as he struggled to free himself.

"In any other case I'd run you through and put an end to this… But you did shown potential. None of the other Jedi we've cornered have shown that sort of weakness, but you did."

She looked out into the air, down to where the tie fighters howled and the Falcon flew.

"So I'll give you a chance to prove your worth to the Empire."

"Nice joke. As if I'd work for you."

"You wouldn't. You would serve Lord Vader and keep the peace."

Ezra rolled his eyes, as painful as it was in this position: The Inquisitor was doing her best to avoid his windpipe, but it didn't make much of a difference - her hands were cold, stiff and robotic.

"Peace? I see-"

"Save it." The Inquisitor grumbled as she gave her grip a little squeeze and shook him slightly to inflict suffering, "The Republic was a hoax, the Jedi were corrupt and weak. There would never be any peace or stability with your frilly, pathetic Rebellion and it's romantic view of the past. I actually witnessed the brutality of the Clone Wars - all because of the Republic's dysfunction. The Empire brings order: It will ensure peace so long as you rebels cease to be."

"Your 'peace' is a blood-pact," Ezra spat out, struggling to put his breath into words, "Slavery! I'm not willing to sacrifice entire... worlds... so that people can't speak their mind."

"So you want to protect a person's right to do harm, to manipulate and deceive and wage war? What a narrow-minded moral alignment." The Grand Inquisitor growled. "These ships will fire on your friends. Maybe the fear of losing a close friend will you draw on the darkness, or maybe despair and loss will make you more impressionable. Or maybe I just kill you."

With that, the Millennium Falcon came into view, winding around the mushroom-cap roof of one of the city spires, twisting and dropping in altitude while a trio of tie defenders followed in hot pursuit. Ezra struggled once more while he locked eyes with his captor, lashing out with his dominant hand while he searched with his weaker hand.

"Only The Force can free you. Are you going to let her die?"

"Are you Sith-wannabees ever going to stop talking?" Ezra growled back as he thrust the flash charge he palmed from Sabine as close to the Inquisitor's eyes as he could clamping his eyes shut and twisting to the side.

The blast from the flashbang nearly blew off his hand, the impact certainly searing and melting the heat-proofed protective glove that had just let go of the capsule. The Grand Inquisitor swayed in shock and by the concussive wave that was directed her way.

Ezra hit the ground, still looking at his hand in confusion and amazement. He immediately dove for his own saber and activated it immediately to deflect a bolt fired from a concerned Stormtrooper taking initiative to protect the Inquisitor, then getting to his feet and moving away from the stunned warrior.

A hissing sound roared up above them - rockets flew out from the transports, and just from their noise Ezra knew they were the same design that had felled the communication tower in Lothal. One hit from these armor-piercing munitions and the Falcon would be gone.

Six missiles to stop. Ezra centered his mind and reached out with everything he had.

 _They'll die!_

The friction and heat from grasping the missile rocked through his mind, an awful feeling scraping through his arms and making the blood spurt out in a awful mix of hot and cold. As Ezra struggled to stomach the sensation, his connection to the force slipped - the projectiles continued on their trajectory. Ezra wanted to howl in frustration and sickened discomfort, but he had already committed everything. The only thing he could do was try again.

He threw everything he had, along with a mental plea to the unknown.

 _If they die, the rebellion won't know. The rebellion has to succeed - the galaxy needs what the rebellion has to offer! Freedom. Hope. Dignity. Peace..._

* * *

Sabine groaned as another flurry of laser bolts scorched the shields of the craft, frustrated with the doggedness of the tie-defenders and their shield generators.

"They're bringing our shields to the brink, Sabine! I'm not too confident about this whole-"

"Shove it and fly better, Lando! I'm used to having a professional at the helm!"

Lando sighed and spun the craft as he jetted to the bridge, eager and anxious to have this rescue mission over with already. Never again would he stick his neck out honor - these two kids had botched things so - damnit!

"We have missiles!"

Sabine rotated the turret to the fore of the craft, to catch a momentary flash on the bridge, and more importantly, six armor-ripping AA missiles spiraling towards them. She remembered those missiles. She hated those.

And then Sabine felt her heart drop - there was no way they were passing through that wall of fire, and with the Imperial presence on the bridge...

"I'm breaking off! We have to split or crash!"

"No." Sabine whispered, lost in a bubble. If she left Ezra in the clutches of the Empire, he would wind up scattered in the ashes Mustafar… or worse. And there was nothing she would be able to do - Hera and the Ghost Squad weren't up for such a suicide mission: there was a rebellion to look after, a dream to protect, her family to save. And for the rebellion to survive, it needed to know about Director Krennic and his project…

 _Ezra!_

Sabine struggled to compose herself, trying to push the thought of her friend from her mind... Hell, push everything from her head. She would take this on the chin and keep going - that's what he would have expected her to do.

 _Accept it, escape. Get back to Hera._

Another shudder through the hull and Sabine suddenly had her sights trained on her familiar, standing alone on the bridge beaten and battered - his arms outstretched and reaching out. She grabbed onto that image as though it was the last time she'd see him, and for some strange reason she felt... peaceful... and powerless. In that moment, it felt as though the Grand Inquisitor had taken control of her for another attempt at her life: but the sensation was one of deep detachment, not control. All emotion seemed to wash away with a universal, secret truth: something shared between him and her... and the rest of the universe.

" _No_ , Lando."

"Bu-"

"Fly low and fast! We're leaving with him."

Sabine wondered if he'd obey, but dwelled on the thought for less than a moment. She was already out of her seat and running through the passages of the Falcon, something unknown running through her mind and guiding her steps. Despite being in the eye of the storm, despite all of the chaos, she did not slip up: not once did stumble and touch the walls.

* * *

Six missiles:

The first two spun out of control, one arching upwards before looping twice and spiraling downwards towards the lifeless surface below, the other deflecting off into thin air, destined to fly miles until the fuel ran dry.

The four other rockets began to slow and freeze in place, straining against an invisible gravity that reigned over the atmosphere. The Grand Inquisitor began to recover and found her footing, activating her lightsaber, while her subordinate Inquisitor ran forward to intervene.

Ezra clenched his fists - and the four rockets launched forward, unfettered by their invisible leash, but as they jolted forward, they spun on their axis, flipping and twisting and launching with unstable trajectories - straight back at the bridge.

One missile slammed into the side of an imperial transport, disabling its upward thrust in an instant. Spinning down and in flames, the vehicle collapsed on the bridge, cutting off the lower Inquisitor.

The second missile slammed onto the bridge, right in front of the advancing AT-DP that was closing in to support the Grand Inquisitor. The Stormtroopers that had surged forward were met with twisted metal and a wall of flame - and the shaking of the bridge threatened the Grand Inquisitor and impeded her fragile recovery. The third missile followed nanoseconds after, rocking the bridge as it hit the underside behind the Grand Inquisitor, who managed to look through her burnt and bleeding eyes and lunge forward at the Jedi.

Ezra played with the assault, his green lightsaber dancing off the connection and the two other strokes that came after. Then the second red saber came into play and Ezra barely caught them both, delaying as long as he could until the fourth missile struck the section of the bridge right in front of them.

The Grand Inquisitor winced and shielded away, while great massive ship flew directly underneath the shower of fire and shrapnel, and Ezra rushed off the other edge of the bridge, landing on the freighter as it howled away from the chaos, just three feet shy of a hatch.

Ezra swayed in the wind current, trying to stabilize and kneel down to grab hold and crawl his way to a hatch, but the air picked him up and tore him around, before a chain jerked at his throat and pulled him off the hull completely. The Dark Side screamed his name and demanded he submit.

But a hand clenched his ankle in a vice, just as it left the ground with no moments left to spare.

"I got you!" Sabine yelled, her words lost in the whistle of the wind, but her feelings and intentions clear to Ezra. The grip of the Dark Side weakened and subsided at the sensation of Sabine's resistance, and Ezra was free to swim to the metal hull and allow Sabine to drag him into the ship. He smiled, spent and dazed:

"Yeah! You got me."

* * *

The Grand Inquisitor squeezed her eyes and rubbed them in irritation as the freighter continued its journey with the vagabond Jedi in its hull. She was certain she had him when she constricted his throat with her power, but the damn Mandalorian was there to foil her once more. She now understood why this outfit of rebels had proven to be dogged and enduring and simply infuriating to other Imperial agents.

No matter, no matter. The Interdictors held the space - they were still in her clutches.

She pulled out her comm-link to speak to the commanding officers drifting twenty miles above her position.

* * *

End Chapter


	9. One Last Dance

Happy Valentines' Day everyone! Be good and sweet to one another!

This chapter has a bit more canon-stretching, from a silly explanation of how Tie Fighters fly to how Interdictor's work. Please don't kill me!

Final chapter - much sooner. I hope. Work is tough though so I'm only going to promise that the story will be done before the end of Rebels. What a ride it has been!

* * *

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Chapter 9:

One Last Dance

* * *

Sabine was careful not to let go as she helped Ezra into the hatch, leading him down the rungs of the airlock and through the ship to the common room, acting as his steady hand in spite of the shaking and wobbling of the craft as Lando steered the ship spaceside. Ezra leaned back against the sofa by the Dejarik board as Sabine tried to helped the exhausted Jedi into a more comfortable position.

"I'm going to man the turret - just wait here, ok?" Sabine shouted as she shook Ezra gently by the shoulder, making sure he was still conscious. Ezra nodded back, alert and slightly confused about how concerned she was - this was exhaustion from the Force, and while his muscles burned, he wasn't on the verge of losing consciousness or bleeding out.

He wanted to reply but the Mandalorian was already sprinting away to a turret control system, yelling angrily back at Lando's intercom system as she stumbled and collided into one of walls circular tunnels that snaked through the ship. The craft shuddered as a wave of laser bolts scorched the shields, prompting Lando to roll the ship.

Ezra looked at his gloved hand steadying himself on the table: with a thought his hand curled into a fist, and then relaxed. With a momentary grimace and gasp of air, he pushed up and followed after his friend. Rest could wait.

He followed the path that Sabine had taken to help Lando deal with the Ties, making his way to a three-way juncture - left to the cockpit, forward to the maintenance outlets, and right towards the center of the ship and to the quad laser controls.

He stumbled his way to the metal rungs, looking up to spy an empty control seat at the top of the access ramp. Ezra leapt onto the ladder, forcing himself not to count the rungs as he clambered and dragged his way up to the targeting system. Collapsing on the seat and switching the turret to the manual setting, he placed the headset on his ears just in time to catch the screech of a Tie Fighter as it overtook the ship.

Sublight engines were funny - the sensors aboard the ship could detect these sublight emissions and give humans a sense of "sound" to track the space flying ships. It couldn't have been a coincidence that Tie Fighters had such an incessant scream both in air and in vacuum, a conscious effort of engineers to make shooting them down so annoying…

But the reward of blowing one out of commission was a pleasure like no other. Ezra smiled as he focused his shots and took his first kill of the night. Sabine saw the solar fighter explode and quickly realized Ezra had ignored her commands.

"Ezra? What the heck are you doing?"

"Doing my part! You think I'm just going to slack off on the final stretch?!"

Another set of sub-light engines exploded in space as Sabine's turrets punched right through the paper-thin starfighter.

"I have it under control."

"No, she does not:" Lando interrupted, strangely calm and cool for a pilot in his position, " _I_ have it under control. I just need an opening."

"Uh." Ezra grumbled, only just remembering a crucial fact as he trained his turret sights towards the approaching blockade, "We _do_ have those Interdictor cruisers in front of us."

"I told you, everything will be just fine!"

Ezra swallowed, his mind echoing back to Atallon. The slaughter which occurred in orbit was terrifying and absolute - the only thing preventing the Star Destroyers consigning the _Millennium Falcon_ to the same fate was the freighter's phenomenal speed… But what was speed to the gravity wells of a Interdictor?

"Sabine?"

"What are you going to do Ezra, close your eyes and Force it all away?"

So, she was aware of it too - Ezra smiled a bit at the sardonic response.

"No, I don't think I can Mind Trick out of this one."

"Then we trust Lando." Sabine affirmed as she blasted another TIE out of the air. "Lando! Heading 3.56! Take it!"

Ezra strained his eyes as he fired a couple more shots towards the cloud of starfighters pestering the ship. He was going to see this through to the end.

* * *

"Be sure to communicate to the rest of the fleet that they are to cease fire." The commander snapped at his subordinate working in the tech-trench below him. "We have orders to capture the stowaway, and there will be nothing to capture from a scorched clump of space-trash."

"Understood, commander. The Destroyers will hold their fire - but the Chimera has energized it's tractor beam. Should I signal them to advance?"

"Advance? No! They will have their pickings when _I_ drag them out of hyperspace. There is no need to break formation when we have our gravity wells up and running. Lock on to their signature and prime our generators."

The commander looked out at the speck of white that spun about in the inky void, dodging tendrils of green plasma fire and leveling out to make it's leap to Hyperspace. Throughout the hull of the Interdictor Cruiser, a bend began to take effect as the gravity wells warmed up to full capacity - soon, at a moment's notice, they would be able to lock down any hyperspeed object within an area of three thousand meters.

"Target locked, sir."

"Activate the gravity well on my command..."

The white spot vanished - leaping forward into a stream of energy and acceleration that could not be matched - but could be interrupted with a burst of gravitational force. Even after thirty seconds, the Interdictor's Gravity Sink would still be able to drag a ship out of hyperspace, only a couple thousand meters off from it's initial jump location.

The captain didn't have time to waste, however. The Grand Inquisitor's orders were as absolute as an order from Darth Vader himself - and fulfilling such a command was a once in a lifetime opportunity. He brought his hand down and barked out the command. The ship flexed inward and groaned as the gravity field took effect and brought speed to a standstill - air became a slurry mucous and the glow of the planet seemed to bend as gravity tugged at the light.

The Captain relaxed as the gravity field vanished, and waited for the Sensor Officer to detect the floundering rebel vessel.

He waited.

And waited.

* * *

After two long seconds of holding his breath, Ezra started to think they were in the clear. Five more heartbeats later and he couldn't keep his silence.

"Alright, Lando: What's the secret?"

"Extra hyperdrive engines, modified for over-the-top performance. They cooldown fast, jump to lightspeed quicker. As it turns out, those gravity wells can't grab a vessel that's too quick for their field to lock down. As long as they don't power up the gravity wells right from the start, the _Falcon_ flies free."

"So, it only works if they're try to pull you out of hyperspace. " Ezra said, trying to understand what Lando said.

"Ezra, didn't I tell you to stay where you were?"

"Right. I've never had an Interdictor try and put a leash on me though - it's possible that these engines could break free of a gravity well already in effect."

"Ugh, _nevermind_." Sabine huffed as she disconnected her headset.

"And let me guess... you haven't actually tried to pull this off until now, have you?"

"Does it matter? Meet me in the common room."

Ezra laughed and pulled off the headset, too happy to care. He went to the rungs to meet Sabine clambering up from her turret's perch, a no-nonsense sigh still lingering on her face.

"Ezra, how are you even moving?"

"You know what? Don't ask." Ezra laughed as he pulled himself off the ladder and up to look her in the eyes. Sabine laughed at his sheepish response, grabbing him by the neck and pushing him forward towards the rec room.

"Well then, let's go congratulate the flyboy."

* * *

The rec room was empty, and as Ezra scanned the room for Lando and his shenanigans, the door leading to the common room hissed shut.

As Ezra sighed and slumped his shoulders, Sabine took initiative, stepping forward to address the intercom system.

"Hey Lando? You do know we have sabers, right?"

"That is true, but _you_ know I'm at the controls to the ship. Want me to depressurize and turn off your local life-support?"

Sabine grumbled and took a defiant stance.

"What's the meaning of this?"

"The last time I let strangers to the cockpit, I lost my ship. Consider it paranoia, but I'm going to be a bit reclusive for the flight, if you don't mind. We go by the book - sit tight in that room and I'll dock you to _The Ghost."_

"As long as we're headed to our rendezvous, we'll behave." Ezra affirmed, stretching his shoulders, pulling off his jacket and gloves before landing on the couch. "Care for a game?"

Sabine stared at him before rolling her eyes and summoning a neutral face, pulling off her helmet and removing her armguards to humor her Jedi friend.

"Fine."

* * *

Three games later, Ezra fiddled with the Dejarik in hopes of finding another game Sabine wasn't as proficient in - activating a game of Cubikahd instead. It got her to smirk and offer him a challenge in that game instead, revelling in Ezra's terrified grimace and inability to walk away from a challenge...

After four scenarios of Cubikahd, Sabine was thoroughly bored while Ezra studied at the hologram, trying to understand how he had lost so quickly after such a promising opening. It was cute how the Padawan always took every experience as a gift - voraciously learning from each loss. Sabine was already impressed with how fast Ezra caught onto the rules of the game, and the elementary tactics...

 _Ugh._ Cute. The word felt _weird_ , coming out of nowhere and unsettling Sabine slightly. Yes, yes, it was true: Ezra had grown, attractive in his own, Lothalian way, and it was certainly confusing for the Mandalorian to see him look at her, eye to eye...

Ezra noticed her discomforted sigh and powered down the table.

"What's up."

"Ugh." Sabine repeated out loud as she looked away from Ezra, speaking the first thing that came to her mind: "Bored."

"Yeah… I'm not one for these games." Ezra agreed, looking around the room for something to distract him. Sabine glanced back at him as he stood up and left the table, minorly ashamed by her outburst and how it seemed to demean him.

"I'm just tired." She tried to explain as her friend knelt by the wall, taking a look at the panels and instruments that were available, "Looking at holograms is exhausting my eyes, that's all. After today..."

Ezra turned back and smiled, unphased by the whole exchange and already onto another topic - his finger pointed to a readout and series of switches.

"Check it out, an audio transceiver!" As he flipped a switch - filling the room with a empty static. "Hey Lando! You got any tunes?"

"No, but I _do_ have a receiver for broadcasts - we're pretty close to the galactic center, you're bound to pick up some stations!"

"Sweet..." Ezra announced as he began to mess with the dial and scan through stations, the sounds bouncing off of every wall of the ship. Sabine's ears perked up as voices and melodies and sounds began to fade in and out, back and forth, trying to catch a tune of a song she enjoyed.

Some unappealing Jatz, the sellout melody of the Max Rebo Band, some other catchy pop tunes and waves emanating from Coruscant… and there!

"Hey! That's Q!"

"What's what?" Ezra snickered, tuning into and then past Sabine's preferred genre. Sabine soured when she realized she was being pranked by a faux-ignorant Bridger.

"Quenk Jazz you shutta - what are you…"

Ezra grinned as he twisted the dial further, zeroing in on an all-to-familiar acoustic, vocal Lothalian nightmare. Sabine snarled as she clenched her hands into fists.

"How is _your_ kriffing music being broadcasted in the Galactic Center?! Turn it back!"

"Ah! Traditional Lothal!" Lando's voice announced from behind the music. "Good taste! That's getting some recognition these days."

"No, not _good_ taste. Horrible taste!" Sabine corrected with a yell, before she advanced on her friend-turned-mortal-enemy. " _Ezra…"_

Ezra stood up and put himself between her and the dial, moving ever so slightly to the music, with one hand on what Sabine could only guess was the volume dial.

"I got us through to the Imperial Academy - I earned this."

"I got us _out_ of the Imperial Academy." Sabine shot back, her thoughts returning to their infiltration, from the moment she used the snapper chargers to cut power to the system and their close call on the bridge… Stars, what a _rush_ that was!

"Well, I found the Rebel cell." Ezra retorted, turning up the volume just a pinch higher.

"I got the Rebel cell on our side." Sabine retorted, thinking back to how silly she had looked when she said the codeword, and how awesome it was to have _worked._

"Well, I stopped the Inquisitor."

"I got us away from the _two_ Inquisitors." Sabine yelled back as she stepped forward, feeling more confident as a grin formed at the thought of watching an Inquisitor helpless at her feet. She actually _beat_ an Inquisitor - she couldn't _wait_ to tell Fenn Rau - her mom! Her dad...

"Just before I escaped from all three of them!"

"Well… With my help- ugh! Oh, alright! Fine!" Sabine relinquished at last, almost laughing at the situation as she turned away and let Ezra dial up the music until it lived in every corner of the room. They survived, and of all crinkin' things, they were listening to Loth'ral and enjoying it…

No, she _was_ laughing, and it _was_ hilarious. The stress had finally drained from her body, and in its place was a surreal, invigorating and almost hysterical triumph. All of the petty things were so wonderful all of a sudden, after staring down death and the Dark Side. She felt empowered then, she felt invincible now - addicted to this feeling of relief and pride. So what harm could this 'music' do?

After he was done with the volume Ezra ran up to the Mandalorian and grabbed her by the arm, turning her around to face him. Sabine stumbled in surprise as he dragged her to the center of the the rec room, leading her in one direction, then the other.

"You have to _dance_ to this, Sabine! That's your problem!"

With one more tug of the hand he let her go, letting Sabine stand straight and freeze up in spite of the music. Undeterred, Ezra paced around her, stamping his feet and counting out loud, egging her on.

"Just like this! It doesn't have to be special, just move with it!"

Sabine stared at him, incredulous and doubtful. She swayed to one side, and to the other, hesitant and unwilling to commit to such foolishness…

She put one foot to the right and pushed off with her left, trying to catch up to Ezra's speed and tempo. She tried to twist as Ezra did, but found herself straining against her own limitations, unfamiliar with these motions.

She could've given up there, but Sabine was in no mood for surrender - she followed Ezra as he leaned the other way, and when he pulled her hand she stubbornly followed.

He led her outward and she took a spin, which she stopped with a one foot proudly slamming to the ground, right on tempo.

"That's it!"

They circled each other for a couple of beats, Ezra moving in tune and Sabine doing her best impression. Then they linked hands again and Ezra led her through some elementary movements, moving Sabine around himself, rocking all of the way. With each rotation, Sabine found better balance and more confidence, moving more and more independently and with her own flair.

Ezra threw her out and they both leaned away, balancing off of their linked arms. They let go and the dance was finished - the song over.

And Sabine was still smiling. Incredibly enough - she was having fun.

Before Ezra could comment, Sabine was commandeering the transceiver - fiddling the dial and scanning back to her favorite channel. When the Jazz blasted from the speakers, the Mandalorian hopped up and pushed Ezra back to one of the stools by the desk.

"Sit down. _Sit down._ "

Ezra looked at her with an skeptical look , but then shut his eyes and tried to stop his restlessness and trust his partner.

Sabine nodded and then began to break down the music to him, how the strings was working to compliment and work with the solo brass instrument and it's improvisations. She pointed out Quenk's signature jitter, quintuple format and a loud, abrupt and sharp drum set…

Twice Ezra tried to stand up, twice Sabine has to push him down and keep seated.

"You have to _listen_ to this, Ezra! That's _your_ problem!"

He smiled at her wit, and closed his eyes doing his best to catch onto what Sabine was trying to explain. She smiled and continued with her lesson, hoping that Ezra's absorbent mind would catch onto her musical taste. With such aptitude for learning, from Cubikahd to sleazy underworld charms, he could learn how to appreciate this - right?

Sabine's voice tapered off, her understanding of this song at her limit. So she waited and judge Ezra's reaction: who shut his eyes closed and put on a neutral appearance. Handsome face, much more defined and sharpened then the childish complexion Ezra first had when he had joined the Ghost crew - Someone would be very lucky to have him.

The song ended, and Ezra blinked, star-purple eyes focusing into the world and looking to Sabine.

"Well?" Sabine asked.

"I never knew how important format is to music... I guess it stands out to me, now that you mentioned it. The rest... I guess I have to listen to it more often?"

"Ha - I didn't know you could be so politically correct!" Sabine said with a smile while she stood up and away from the seat. Ezra rolled his head and chased her.

" _Hey -_ it was an honest response!"

* * *

Lando checked the scopes one more time, happy to see that the hyperspace drive was functioning as the designs had predicted. Fuel was good, shields were stable…

"Now to check on our ruffians..." Lando announced out loud, looking to the co-pilot seat only to find a dead protocol droid with a blaster bolt straight through its head. Electricity sparked from the wound at random moments - a testament to how recent its demise was.

Lando looked at the readout and watched Sabine sit the Jedi down and try and explain Quenk Jazz. When it was over, they went back to bickering over the smallest things, taking enormous enjoyment out of messing with one another.

Quenk Jazz and Lothalian folk… neither really suited Lando's taste, and since they had their fun…

"Might as well have a song for myself, right?" Lando spoke to his dead droid companion, who sparked back in affirmation.

Lando turned his attention to the intercom panel that was set apart from the rest of the shuttle controls - checking the audio screen and broadcast frequencies, Lando began to adjust the setting to a calmer, friendlier, _smoother_ channel to calm his nerves.

The two Rebel operatives froze in place as they realized that their music was being hijacked. Sabine knelt at the transceiver, trying to wrestle back control, but soon realizing that their pilot had taken over.

"Lando, what's this?"

"A waltz." Lando responded, "You've had your fun, now _I_ get to pick."

He remembered this piece well, and in his mind he could think up many nights where this tune had accompanied him on his more romantic entrepreneurial bargains. The welder from Corellia, the data technician from Cloud City… and so Lando kicked back and drifted off into his nostalgia, humming to the tune.

* * *

"Heh, I guess it's only fair…" Ezra added meekly, looking to Sabine as Lando cut off the intercom and flooded the room with an orchestral melody setting the stage to a regal waltz. He took a step in the direction of the bench, ready to take a seat and rest for the duration of the flight.

Sabine just sighed as she closed her eyes and tried to immerse herself in the melody. She was having fun so far, sampling music and spending time with Ezra...

She stood up and spun around. The young Jedi looked at her funny when she stepped forward with hands out.

"Care for a waltz, Sir Bridger?"

"You're... kidding, right?" Ezra announced skeptically, even as he stepped forward, nervously taking hold of her hand and carefully placing his hand on her back. "Waltz's aren't…"

"Hey, this is the only time I'd allow it." Sabine explained as she began to dance around in a circle, dragging Ezra along for the ride. "We're _celebrating._ Waltzes are for celebration."

"Uh, technically…"

"What?"

"Well, c'mon. Are you telling me you've never watched a holodrama like 'Across the Stars'?"

Ezra spun her out, holding onto her by her hand. She looked back at him with a classic Sabine look. When Ezra pulled her back in, he had one of his classic Ezra expressions.

" _Right_ : obviously Mandalorians don't care much for cinema. I've watched tons of them: you'd be amazed as to how many of them have a waltz scene. When you waltz, you just shuffle around and… um. Talk."

"So we _are_ doing it right, then." Sabine affirmed, getting Ezra to awkwardly nod his head and 'agree', "Never saw you as much of a theater-goer..."

"Well, when you're striking it out on your own and it's cold season on Lothal, sometimes you sneak into cinemas for the distraction."

"Oh, _right_ …" Sabine responded warily, feeling awkward by bringing up Ezra's past. But to her relief, her concern washed away as Ezra shrugged with one shoulder and smiled, somehow undeterred by the past.

How was he like that? Sabine could never understand how Ezra was able to move past his history, his loss of innocence and the death of his parents. He was incredibly motivated by his roots, made peace with Rider and Tseebo, and there was never a moment of weakness around him when revisiting the past. Not once - even Sabine wasn't that laserproof. What was his secret?

"Well, I stopped sneaking in when I was 13." Ezra continued, unaware of Sabine's growing inner conflict. "All of the Empire's meddling made it more propaganda than anything else."

" _Kriff..._ " Sabine began, "I can only imagine what that must have been like. Imperial art must have been torture."

In her head, Sabine began to wonder what else Ezra had kept from the team - there were moments where Ezra would pause and stare off with a twinkle of nostalgia in his eyes, down the alleyway or to a city's skyline, and Sabine could almost read the thoughts and emotions that dwelled within him. Once she had considered his roguish, savage street-side roots as a burden, a downside and a dangerous variable for the team's missions. He would change his appearance and his voice on a whim, with whiny snarls and Zeb and sycophantic flirty lines at her... She thought he couldn't be trusted, an embarrassment that couldn't handle the responsibility or grasp the importance of their cause. But mission after mission, Ezra's history proved to be his greatest source of strength… and through them, it became a reason for him to grow.

"I'm sure you must have seen some of it at the Academy."

Sabine rolled her eyes with a sardonic smile as she swayed into their next step, adjusting her hand to better fit the curve of Ezra's shoulder:

"You've been at an academy, Ezra. You may have noticed…"

"That… they're pretty bland." Ezra agreed, wincing at his mistake and remembering how monotonous the Imperial barracks on Lothal were, "Even with no propaganda… how'd the artist in you deal with that?"

"She didn't. I only started working on art until after the academy, with Ketsu." Sabine explained, as she inched a bit closer to loosen up. Ezra was as tall as her now, and although she didn't like Zeb's teasing, she had to accept it.

"That's a strange thought: I always saw you as an artist."

"Well, I always took after my father but I never applied myself until I broke out with Ketsu… Being apart from my family, it was a way for me to feel… connected."

"Oh, _right…_ " Ezra muttered, an awkward phrase that Sabine recognized and laughed at, prompting Ezra to frown in concern: "What?"

" _Nothing…_ " Sabine struggled to say as she tried to contain her good humor, looking straight at Ezra with a smile on her face. "... Sometimes I don't know if you're doing it on purpose or not."

Ezra, confused and nervous, did the most natural thing his empathic mind told him to do. He smiled and gazed back.

As she caught her breath and reigned in her laughter, a sudden spark of urgency settled into Sabine's stomach. All in a single moment, with one shared look, she was aware of how fast her heart was racing, how tremendously sensitive her fingertips felt. Her first reaction was one of confusion, concern, and only after staring him right in the face, deep into his eyes, did she realize the source of her problem, and its extent.

 _Oh no._

Was this the same song, or had Sabine happily pranced into another waltz? Where was her awareness drifting off to? Why was she so enthralled by...

 _No,_ ** _no!_**

Sabine's next reaction was one of pure fury. Her internal conscious raced as she rushed from query to query. Where had these emotions come from? How dare they try and ruin this moment? How could she be finding him so attractive _so suddenly_? How was she _enarmored_ with **_Ezra Bridger_**!?

"Doing what?!" Ezra repeated, his voice a teensy bit louder and a lot more curious.

"Ha!" Sabine laughed, trying to swallowed down her nerves and her heart, preferring to keep her thoughts a secret. She has having enough difficulty with them on her own. But she had to respond, she needed something _quick_ :

"You're... always trying to do what's best for everyone."

Ezra responded incredulously wheezing a bit and blinking his eyes in confusion.

" _Really_."

"What?" Sabine growled in exasperation, nervously - anxiously awaiting his response with a smile. Him and his smiles. Him and his funny mannerisms. For the longest time she had tried to stay professional while Ezra remained playful and positive - unabashed and lacking any care in the world. Maybe it was inevitable that his cheery disposition would wear her down, but just when did she acquire such a fondness to his company , such an attraction to the face of this daredevil? She tried to be angry, she tried desperately wanted to shut off this surge of _euphoria_ and defuse this situation… but lost in his smile she found herself smiling back. She couldn't help herself.

Maybe it was the way how his eyes looked like the flash of a night sky lit up by Rhydonium explosions. Maybe it was his voice and how earnestly he spoke: as clear and refreshing as the rivers of Krownest.

"Are you sure about that? I was the jerk lieutenant commander who scrapped the _Phantom I_."

"But you got the _Phantom II_."

"No no, that was Chopper." Ezra corrected, smiling and curious with Sabine's strange mood. "I don't know where you're getting this from, Sabine: If anything, you're the one who is always turning things for the better. Always working on the shield generator on Chopper Base and still having time to give the _Phantom II_ a fresh coat of paint, planning that strike against the Interdictor turret. I have a lot to learn from you."

"Well…" Sabine began, trying and failing to come up with an adequate response to turn down Ezra's praise. Suddenly Sabine grew fearful: what if the music stopped? What should she do, what would happen? And, for the thousandth time, _why?_

Maybe it was because, no matter how often she tried to cover it up with stoicism and silence, she loved to color the world in her own positive emotions like he did. Maybe it was because of the Ghost Squad being there to help her test her limits, face her fears, and return to her family.

The truth couldn't be hidden - during their journey through the galaxy, from the grassy plains of Lothal to the dry air of Atollon, Ezra had changed from one of Sabine's largest irritations to one of her greatest assets. It was more than just his reliability at deflecting blaster shots - it was how he listened, how he spoke, how he would eagerly catch a thermal detonator she tossed to him, or how he would happily present her with a helmet, a tribute that she would transform with her art... How he would offer help, and how he asked for help. There was a connection between them that was deeper than his interest in color and jetpacks, her curiosity of meditation and The Force.

He never expected anything from her, and was always eager to learn more about her. He treated his friendship with her as not a labour or a convenience, but something that was as natural as his right hand. And it was the same for her: There was always something about Ezra Bridger, something Sabine wanted to learn or understand. She... she _loved_ that about him. Stars, it was true...

Well, if this desire was genuine, then she might as well act on it.

Ezra was lost trying to figure his own way out of the situation - with Sabine's sudden epiphany and surge of determination, his nervous front became quite apparent. Understanding her own feelings gave her a better sense of control, and she took lead of their waltz and steered it in a much more Mandalorian fashion. After dancing around in a couple circles to throw Ezra off, she slipped her hands out and up to his shoulders and drew close…

* * *

Lando's eyes widened as he stared at the monitor's feed.

"Oh, _man!_ "

It was the strangest sensation, making her mouth press onto his. There was warmth, and a texture, a _feeling_ that seemed to spark through her body like lightning.

* * *

And like lightning, it was over too quick. She - she had just pulled away from the moment they collided, a touch and go. But a touch was all that was needed for Sabine to attempt again - looking into his eyes she swayed back towards him so that she could feel his heat on her skin.

Then she pressed forward again, this time reveling in the union between them, no longer afraid of the stupid context or the awkward timing. She basked in the sensation, how her lips dragged across his. It was such a rush, and it scratched an itch that had only just begun awaken-

This time, Ezra broke the contact. But at this point, rationality and fear were non-applicable to Sabine. She let one of her hands reach around to caress the nape of his neck, enjoying the touch.

Ezra took a breath, then a short one. Frozen in his tracks, Sabine could feel the current brush by her chin.

"...Oh. Man. Sabine… uh..."

"What… Do you have any complaints?" Sabine whispered, tilting her head and waiting for a sign of consent, eager to resume.

Ezra stood still, electrified. He tried to come up with something to say, Sabine saw his mouth open in close in a record pace. But his heart was clear, as Sabine felt the palm of his hand rest on the curve of her waist. Maybe it was reflex, but it was enough for her to inch closer, forcing him to show his hand. She felt her eyes close as she opened herself up to the unknown...

For a moment Sabine felt air, but then Ezra met her halfway, gentle as always. They started off still as stone - before moving slowly, wanting to make the moment last, holding every sensation sacred. But with small tastes, a deeper hunger awakens.

Sabine found herself loving the feast. Every time they parted, she found herself frustrated and yearning. Each time they returned to their embrace, her confidence and desire drove her to push deeper, hold their connection longer. To an observer, it would be fractions of seconds, but they made all the difference to the Mandalorian. It may have been a heartbeat more, a flutter of an eyelid more, the twitch of a finger more… milliseconds, nanoseconds, whatever! But it was _more_.

She liked more. She wanted more. She could tell he was hungry as well - how held her longer on the last embrace, and how he pushed himself closer to the rest of her body, losing patience with all this flirtation. She happily led him to the lip of the Dejarik board, letting him push her against the tables edge as he pressed his chest up against hers in a deeper embrace. Without the armor and the layered clothes, Sabine felt his thighs against hers, her chest drag against his. The sensations drove her wild, as she tried to keep up with the urges that followed. She felt her mouth open more and more as they kissed, relishing the suction and eagerly playing with the thought of feeling their tongues overlap. When they did, a small little noise made its way out from the depths of her desire.

* * *

"Well, well, well... would you look at that. The kid finally got the Mandalorian girl's fancy!" Lando announced as he leaned into the monitor, watching the two Rebels engage in a passionate Corellian kiss. He absentmindedly motioned for the protocol droid to get a better look at the action, but the droid remained aimless, stationary and dead.

For a moment, Lando was laughing at the matter, but then his face fell as he leaned away from the monitor and back into his chair, looking up at the ceiling of the cockpit in dismayed revelation.

"...Now, this presents a problem." Lando mused out loud, "If I turn off this monitor here, I leave these two to their privacy… but can I really let them operate unsupervised? I only just got the Falcon back and I already have so much to clean up… can't risked being hijacked again. "

Lando looked to the droid and chuckled. His jovial demeanour faded as he revisited the conundrum.

"...But if I keep it on, I may end up a witness to something much more…."

Lando's demeanour fell further when considering that possibility. Another wisp of lightning appeared from the droid, miniscule fireworks of flickering out into the cockpit atmosphere.

"...No, no..." Lando concluded, almost as if he was arguing with the droid (and not himself), "...I'm not going to _record_ them! They've done me a favor, and blackmail on them rubs me the wrong way…"

Another bolt of power from the droid, but this time it was an audible _crack_.

"They're _kids_ for crying out loud!" Lando responded passionately, leaning forward decisively as defended his position. "I'll just…"

Lando stared at the monitor for two seconds.

"I'm turning it off." He announced to nobody but himself.

* * *

Sabine gasped as they parted to catch her breath - in her rash and reckless pursuit, the need for oxygen was the only limit that slowed her down. And strange enough, the breathlessness was welcome - blurring her senses and rushing adrenaline through her body was the only sane way of managing all of these feelings. Everything was so fast and so raw - when she kissed him, at times she would lose herself in the taste, the ashen tinge of a foreign land that still carried the scent of Lothal - other times she would obsess over the bumps and textures of his tongue as he played with her, teased her, so wild and exciting and charming…

And it wasn't just the kiss that drove her mad. They pressed and pushed against each other, awakened and enjoying the pressure and sensation of their partner's body. The heat, the flesh, the muscle… Their hands were always frisky, mindlessly and instinctively changing location with each movement - while Sabine played with Ezra's hair and kept his head in control with one, her other hand found itself traveling around his back, feeling his muscles tense and the fire that smoldered behind the fabric of clothing, hot like the surface of Shu-Torun. When Ezra's hand found itself grabbing deeply onto one of Sabine's thighs, it was natural for her to settle on his grip, wrapping her leg around his for support and riding up onto him. Was it uncomfortable? Maybe. To feel his hand grip her haunch and press deep into her skin may have been uncomfortable in some other context. But now, the pain was distant, and only seemed to give her more pleasure as she now pressed her waist even closer to his, feeling the friction intensify and grow as she settled in.

 _Breathe..._

Their faces broke off suddenly, so that the two rebels could struggled to catch their breath. In this moment of clarity and recovery, Sabine felt as though she was using her eyes for the first time since the dance. She could see her breath mix into the atmosphere, the flush on Ezra's face, the struggle in his eyes. She instinctively edged forward, tempted to dive in once more and fall further into the embrace...

But she wouldn't. She swayed back ever so slightly, finding herself erring to a more cautious, calmer state of mind - Her consciousness was awake, bickering and lamenting over how fast things were playing out, how reckless and stupid all of this passion was. The tension within her had shattered and whatever madness had infected her suddenly wilted, overshadowed by a surge of regret.

She got her hand onto Ezra's chest, putting a bit of pressure as a touch of deterrent. She was fearful that he wouldn't understand, and stars forbid, lean in for another kiss. Yet Ezra was more mindful than that - and probably just as surprised as she was. His grip slackened and he set her down upon the table, slowly edging his hands off of her as if a wrong move would set something off.

And there they waited, and breathed. Sabine was absolutely beside herself to end up in such a situation: One part of her was furious at stopping, the other was horrified at how far they had gone. There was no consensus. Even if Sabine did like Ezra, and love him terribly, that did little to answer the small, teensy, but oh so pertinent questions: For how long did she like him? Could five minutes of honesty really override the attitudes and opinions Sabine had held onto for years?

All of this internal agony while Ezra lingered half a foot away. It wasn't sustainable or sensible - she needed to explain herself…

"Sorry." Ezra mumbled, wincing out a smile and trying to mask his own alarm and concern. It was strange to hear him apologize. It confused the Mandalorian to see him so apprehensive, since - since...

"Sorry…?" Sabine echoed, "It was a kiss."

Ezra's eyes avoided hers, but his shoulders relaxed, and his body deflated in timid relief. Sabine loved to hear the sound of her voice - it was more calming and reassuring than anything in the galaxy.

"It got…"

"...It got… it went somewhere. Yes." Sabine interrupted, feeling more confident and eager the more she spoke, even if she was tripping and struggling through her sentences, "I… Er… It's ok. I just…"

"Need time. Yeah," Ezra agreed while nodding and dodging her eyes like they were laser blasts, "I wasn't thinking. I…"

He stepped back and away, putting his hands up in penance.

"I went-."

" _We_ went too far..." Sabine announced, overriding Ezra's confession. " _We_ got a bit carried away… and that's _fine_."

Ezra looked up to Sabine and lowered his hands, making eye contact for the first time in a while. She looked back at him - and so his eyes darted around the room, still trying to make sense of things and avoid her inquisitive stare. It was nice for Sabine to so easily see that she wasn't the only one off of balance - it even got her to smile.

"So. Do you…" Ezra began, red as rhyolite and gesturing from her to himself, "...like me?"

Sabine instinctively looked at her helmet, sitting on the bench just out of reach. _Karabast._

"I...guess? I guess… Ezra, it's been a _long_ night, and we've got tons of work in the coming cycle. We're off to Mandalore, remember?"

"Ah." Ezra responded, thinking about Ursa Wren, Tristan Wren, various subordinates of Clan Wren... Sabine's father. Sabine was thinking about her family as well - She wondered what her father would think of all of this.

"Thank you for stopping." Sabine continued. "...Maybe -"

 _Some other time. After a bit of courtship. After we save my father. After you show my family how well you can fight…_

"...Forget it." Sabine finished, feeling pink in the face by the words that she had almost said. She hoped Ezra would understand we she meant, what she needed…

And he did. The Jedi took a breath and nodded with face of gentle understanding.

"Alright."

* * *

Lando raised his hands to his temple, his mouth aghast and utterly baffled at what he had just witnessed.

"Damn it all, man, confess! Don't let her slip out of your fingers - you _had_ her _!_ "

He flicked off the display in disgust and depression, trying to lose himself in other technical matters - the _Falcon_ 's steering coupling was a bit loose and jittery from the escape from the Interdictor, and some technical readouts weren't displaying properly.

"Ezra Bridger, Sabine Wren..." He huffed as he knelt underneath the control panel to get at the wiring - "I hope you two free yourselves from these silly burdens that you put on yourselves. Kids like you should be making mistakes and learning about life, not fighting a war…"

 _Kids_. As he ripped apart the wires, he couldn't help but realize that they were still kids. Teenagers on the cusp of adulthood. Tenderfoots. Greenhorns. And yet they held themselves to such high standards, strangled their impulses and desires like Jedi monks - he knew so many people who lacked such resolve, who succumbed to impulse, debauchery and decay. How did these two keep going in spite of it all? How could they maintain such purity while fighting the _Galactic Empire?_ How did they keep such... hope? Faith? Resolve?

People would call them idiotic. Naive. Arrogant. And yet they persisted for so long…

It was a mystery that Lando couldn't shake off his mind, for whatever reason. It made him feel…

...terrible.

A spark of electricity from the wires zapped the pensiveness out of him. He snapped out of his malaise and shook the thoughts of sympathy from his mind.

He was an entrepreneur, a man of fortune. He was doing just fine.

Lando shoved the wires back after he reconnected them to their respective ends. He settled into his chair and checked the star map.

Thirty more minutes and he'd get his reward, and be free from this rebellion rabble for good.

* * *

End Chapter


End file.
